Volume Three: United and Divided
by VictoriaPyra
Summary: Michael and Gabriel must band together. Alex struggles with inner demons and secrets are revealed. This picks up where season two left off. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

"United and Divided"

They heard the screams three minutes before they reached the city. Michael and Gabriel flew over Vega's walls and nearly tumbled from the sky as they saw the devastation wrought by New Delphi's army. Together they flew in a wide circle around the city, searching for Alex and Noma. Michael felt Gabriel's grief.

"This isn't your fault. Julian already had this planned."

Gabriel glanced at his brother, wishing his heart would believe Michael's words.

Michael abruptly veered right, yelling, "There they are."

Noma and Alex stood together in the mouth of one of the city's gates. Noma's white wings glowed softly in the remaining electric light. A dagger glistened against Alex's throat.

The Archangels folded their raven wings against their backs and dived steeply, flaring their wings just enough to land. They stood five yards from Noma and Alex. Michael took one step forward, arms outstretched and palms up.

"Noma, talk to me. What's going on?" He kept his voice gentle and nonthreatening. He knew Noma was fast enough to pull the dagger across Alex's throat before he could stop her.

Noma's already tense frame became rigid as Michael spoke. She tightened her grip on the dagger. With no emotion, she said, "I am taking Alex. You will not follow. You will not send anyone else to follow. You will not leave this city for forty-eight hours."

"Noma, please," began Gabriel.

Noma took a step back, jerking Alex with her. A thin line of red appeared beneath the dagger.

"If either of you fail to obey these instructions, the Chosen One will die," she continued. She glared at her brothers.

"It's okay Michael," said Alex.

Their shoulders slumped. They could fight and beat Noma, but she would kill Alex before they could separate them. Noma had been trained by Lucifer, the best warrior in all the realms. She had excelled under his tutelage. Seeing their defeat, Noma pulled Alex tightly against her and took off, the dagger still pressed to his throat.

Michael watched them until they disappeared into the night. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he faced his brother, his bewildered eyes searching Gabriel's face for something, hope maybe.

"Come here," said Gabriel.

Michael let him pull him into a hug and let loose the sobs tearing at his chest. They did not part until Michael's sobs had subsided.

"I'm so sorry," said Michael. "I've failed Father. I've failed our brothers and sisters, and I've…" He paused, forcing himself to calm down. "And I've failed you." His head dropped, unwilling to meet his brother's gaze.

Gabriel gripped Michael's chin and forced him to look up. "You have not failed any of us. For too long you have bared this burden alone, and that is my fault. For now on, I will stand by your side. This time, I will be your strength."

Gabriel's love flowed through Michael, giving him strength enough to control his emotions and stand tall. Michael carefully locked away his thoughts and feelings for Alex.

"Let's save Vega," he said.

They faced the hissing eight-balls that had been slowly encroaching upon them. In sync, they drew their swords and stepped forward seven paces, placing themselves in an open space. Back-to-back, they settled into a fighting stance. The eight-balls surged towards them, hands like claws. Neither Archangel moved, instead waiting for their attackers to reach them. Just before the eight-balls overran them, they struck. Each movement was deliberate, well-practiced. Their blows were powerful and elegant, the swords and extension of their bodies. After three minutes of fighting, there were no more eight-balls near Michael and Gabriel. Both brothers quickly scanned the other, only relaxing when they were sure neither was injured. They smiled faintly at each other, amused at their similar behaviors.

"General Riesen is a Dyad. He is leading this attack," said Gabriel.

"By whose order?" asked Michael.

"Mine." Gabriel bit at the word, but didn't avert his gaze from his brother's.

"He will be at Riesen tower." Michael turned away and swiftly moved through the city, Gabriel at his heels.

They traveled by foot so as to more easily render aide, though it took longer. Fifteen minutes later, they reached the tower. Bodies littered the base. They picked their way through the hallway and got in the elevator. They didn't want to give away their presence any more than they already had by flying up. Michael pushed the button to take them to the third floor. A faint buzzing came from the broken speaker. When the elevator stopped and the smudged metal doors slid open, both brothers tried to go first. Gabriel snorted as he stepped back to let Michael out first.

The hallway leading to General Riesen's office was empty. The doors were agar. This time, Gabriel went first, shoving his brother behind him. Michael shook his head in exasperation. They pushed the doors open fully. The room was nearly empty, save for a man in a chair and the lifeless body of Claire Riesen.

"Come to survey your work?"

Across the room sat Dyad Riesen, his blue-rimmed eyes amused. He sipped from a glass before setting his scotch beside the half full decanter on the end table. Uncrossing his legs, he lifted himself from the armchair and stretched.

"I think you will be pleased, Gabriel. The city is nearly ours," he said. He moved to a window and looked out upon the falling city.

"The plan has changed. Withdraw our forces," said Gabriel, his voice demanding obedience.

Still looking out the window, Dyad Riesen said loudly, "Seize them."

Eight-balls poured into the room, some through doors and others through windows. Dyad Riesen stepped back as his window was busted by frenzied eight-balls pushing their way in. The Archangels fought against the onslaught, relying on their bodies rather than weapons in the rapidly tightening space. Sheer numbers overwhelmed them. Gabriel fell first, Michael seconds behind him. Eight-balls pressed against them, forcing them still. They felt the bite of cold metal against their skin. They bucked violently, trying to dislodge the eight-balls. Despite their efforts, the stakes were driven into their upper backs, pinning their wings. Quickly, they were stripped of their weapons and yanked to their feet. Several eight-balls gripped each brother.

Dyad Riesen stood in front of them, two shackles dangling from his hands.

"I am sorry to do this to you, Archangels. You see, before I took full control of this body, the human noticed something odd about you, Gabriel. His suspicion only increased with your actions, even after I had full control. Thank you for your help with that by the way."

He smiled at Gabriel and gestured for two eight-balls to come to him. He handed them the shackles. They scurried away from Dyad Riesen and disappeared behind the Archangels. Michael's and Gabriel's arms were pulled behind their backs roughly and the shackles locked around their wrists. Even with all the movement, the stakes were still firmly in place. Dyad Riesen smiled benignly before continuing.

"General Riesen is a smart man, very sharp. Had to be to found and run this impressive city." He swept his arms out as through to encompass all of Vega. "He thought, and me by extension, that it was strange you would order such a large attack against the place where your brother nests. You would never try to kill Michael. You won't even kill the Chosen One. He was at your mercy for weeks, at yet still he lives. General Riesen put together the pieces. There was something very wrong with you. He tried desperately to hide this information from me, but by then, it was too late." He smiled again, this time more to himself.

"I did hope he was wrong, but made a plan nonetheless. When you said to withdraw my forces, I knew General Riesen had been correct, and here we are." He said the last part cheerfully, clapping his hands together as he spoke.

Dyad Riesen addressed the eight-balls. "Lock them up." He returned to his armchair and happily downed the rest of his scotch.

The eight-balls dragged the Archangel brothers through the city to the prisons Gabriel was once held in. They were shoved into separate cages and the doors sealed shut. The eight-balls left, cackling madly. Michael sighed and folded himself upon the floor, closing his eyes once he was seated.

"What are you doing?" Gabriel asked, his tone sharp.

"Meditating," replied Michael.

"Perhaps you haven't noticed brother, but we are imprisoned. I would like to get free."

Michael cracked an eye. "How do you suggest we escape?" he asked coolly.

Gabriel glared at him for a moment before turning away with a huff.

"We wait," Michael said, returning to his mediation.

* * *

Sargent Ethan Mack dragged a hand across his eyes. His limbs were heavy with fatigue. Hell in a hand basket, his grandmother used to say. Yeah, that just about summed it up. He looked over his shoulder at the civilians huddled together against the brick wall. They looked back at him with wide eyes filled with terror. He gave them a reassuring smile.

"We're almost there. A couple more blocks," he told them.

Sgt. Mack checked his gun, hiding his worry when he saw how few bullets he had left. He motioned for the civilians to follow him. He hoped that once they made it to House Whele, they would be able to mount a defense. He knew were David Whele kept his guns and ammo hidden. Slowly, he edged out around the corner onto the street. This road was the fastest way to House Whele, but it was exposed. They would have to move quickly. Seeing their way was clear, Sgt. Mack herded the civilians before him, pointing down the road in silent direction.

They moved slowly, stumbling on debris littering the road. Sgt. Mack bit back a sigh of frustration.

"Come on people. We need to get going."

He spoke firmly, wanting to keep them calm but needing them to follow his instructions. Their pace picked up some, but was still too slow for the Sgt.'s liking. He reminded himself they were civilians and didn't have the training he had.

It took them about five minutes to reach House Whele. He led them to a room on the first floor with only one doorway and no windows. It would be easier to defend, the single door acting as a funnel to slow and attackers. Sgt. Mack surveyed the eight civilians: four men, two women, and two children. The women and children were huddled together on the tan sofa and one of the men had sprawled across a plush dark brown leather armchair. The man gingerly rubbed his right knee.

"How is it?" asked Sgt. Mack.

"Hurts like a bitch, but I'll be alright. Just can't let any more of those nasty black-eyed freaks get the jump on me," said the man.

Sgt. Mack nodded sympathetically and turned to the other three men. Two were young, hardly out of their teens. The third man was far older, pushing sixty, but in decent shape. Sgt. Mack faced the older man.

"This place is our best chance for safety within the city, but we need supplies. I'm going to scout out the area and see what I can find. Keep them safe while I'm gone." He handed over his gun and leaned in close. "There isn't much ammo left. Be careful."

The older man nodded. Sgt. Mack patted him on the shoulder and left the room. He headed for David Whele's office first. There was a false bottom in one of the desk drawers were Whele kept a pistol.

He was almost to the office when two eight-balls appeared from around the corner at the other end of the hallway. Sgt. Mack pulled out a knife strapped to his right thigh. One eight-ball ran towards him while the other crawled along the wall. Sgt. Mack held his ground until they were ten feet away and then hurled himself at the one running, burying the knife hilt deep in the eight-ball's left shoulder, nicking the collarbone. He curled his left hand into a fist and executed two quick jabs at the eight-ball's face, breaking the nose, before pulling free his knife. The eight-ball stumbled backwards. Fingernails dug into his back and hot rancid breath moistened his neck. The other eight-ball had latched onto him. He threw his weight backwards into the wall and elbowed the eight-ball in the gut. The first eight-ball righted itself and charged him. Sgt. Mack flipped the knife over in his hand and drove it over his shoulder, getting the second eight-ball in the face. He yanked the knife sideways. The eight-ball howled in pain and loosened its grip. He shook it off. The first eight-ball rammed into him, knocking the breath from his lungs. The knife clattered against the tiled floor. They grappled against each other, slipping on the now still body of the other eight-ball. Sgt. Mack struggled to free himself. He lodged a foot behind the eight-ball's right ankle and swiftly moved his leg outward. The eight-ball fell to the ground, landing on its injured shoulder. Sgt. Mack followed it down. He grabbed his knife and pulled it across the eight-ball's throat.

He had seen Michael do that move with the feet during Archangel Corps training, but had never tried it himself. If Michael had seen him just now, he may have gotten a glimmer of approval from the Archangel. Woohoo, gold star. He stood and immediately put a hand against the wall. His head rang and his vision tilted. Every muscle ached. He staggered to the office, his body shaking in protest. He sank into the chair behind the walnut desk. His eyes slid shut. A scream outside brought him back to consciousness. He rifled through the drawers until he found the one with a false bottom. The pistol and an extra full magazine greeted him. Relief flooded through him. He checked that the pistol was loaded and tucked it snugly into the holster on his hip. He dropped the extra magazine into a pocket.

He found two rifles and a box of ammo in David Whele's bedroom. He looped the rifle straps over his shoulder and carried the ammo in his hands. On his way back to the civilians, he stopped by the kitchen. He spied a half a loaf of bread on the counter. He grabbed it and checked the refrigerator. There was a block of cheese and a nearly full bottle of prune juice. David Whele had to be the only person left alive who liked prune juice. Sgt. Mack took the cheese and juice. Now wasn't the time to be picky. Everything else in the kitchen required cooking. He scanned the room for something he could use as a bag. There was a chef's coat hanging on the back wall. He rolled his eyes. Of course House Whele had a chef. He laid the coat open on the floor. He placed the box of ammo, bread, cheese, and juice in the center and folded up the edges of the coat, using the sleeves to tie it closed. Once finished, he returned to the civilians.

"It's me," he called from the other side of the door.

One of the younger men opened it and took the makeshift bag from him. They didn't have any trouble while he was gone. Sgt. Mack passed around the guns and ammo to the men. The two young men took the pistols, the one from the desk and the one Sgt. Mack had given to the older man. He and the older man took the rifles.

Once that was settled, he used the knife, which he had cleaned off while in the kitchen, to cut a slice of bread and cheese for everyone. They ate quietly. Sgt. Mack unscrewed the lid on the juice and took a swig. He shuddered at the bitter taste. One of the children giggled nervously. He locked eyes with the little girl and smiled gently.

"Your turn," he said, passing her the bottle.

She sniffed it and crinkled her nose.

Sgt. Mack chuckled. "Drink some. I know it's gross, but we need to keep up our strength."

The girl took a tiny sip and passed the bottle to the woman beside her.

After eating, Sgt. Mack did some stretches. His muscles felt tight after sitting. He had just finished when they heard scuffling in the hallway. He put a finger to his lips as he looked at each person in the room. He picked up his gun and motioned for the women and children to go to the back of the room. He gave his knife to the man with the injured knee and indicated he should guard them. The scuffling grew louder and was joined by raspy breathing. Sgt. Mack positioned himself directly across from the door and motioned for the other three men to form a loose half-circle around him. The scuffling was now right on the other side of the door. He put a finger to his lips one more time, turning slightly to the women and children behind him. He lifted the rifle to his shoulder. He wouldn't use it unless someone came through the door. The other three men mirrored his actions. Everyone held their breath. The people in the hallway, it sounded like nearly a dozen, began to move further along. Sgt. Mack was just about to breathe again when one of the children whimpered. Everything went silent. Sgt. Mack tensed. The door flung open and eight-balls rushed in. He pulled the trigger, an eight-ball dropping as his bullet found its mark. The other men were shooting too, but their aim wasn't as good, though the old man was holding his own. Even injured, the eight-balls kept coming. Sgt. Mack took down two more, but there were still six standing. They were beginning to crowd the men. Sgt. Mack's gun clicked hollowly. He was out of bullets and there wasn't time to reload. He flipped the gun around and used it like a bat. The other men were in a similar position. An eight-ball danced in front of him, snarling as it tried to swipe at him.

"Come on, you filthy beast," muttered Sgt. Mack.

"You don't stand a chance without the angels," spat the eight-ball.

Sgt. Mack was so surprised to hear one talk that he failed to dodge a hit to the head from another eight-ball. He straightened up just in time to block a blow from his.

"You are an angel, moron."

The eight-ball hissed, contempt etched across its face. It swiped at Sgt. Mack again.

"The Archangels have been captured. Without them, it's bye bye humans," said the eight-ball gleefully.

One of the younger men slipped behind the eight-ball, pistol poised above its head.

"Wait," yelled Sgt. Mack. "I need this one alive."

They dispatched the last two eight-balls who were edging towards the door to escape. Sgt. Mack leveled a steely glare at the eight-ball who had spoken.

"Tell me about the Archangels. Where are they?"

"Bye bye humans. Bye bye humans," sang the eight-ball.

Sgt. Mack looked at the two men holding the eight-ball. "Bring him."

He spun around and led them into the hallway. He paused for a moment, thinking.

"This way."

He ushered them into a small storage room. Again, he glared at the eight-ball.

"Where are the Archangels?"

"You can't make me talk. Nothing you do will make me tell you."

"I might not make you talk, but I bet I can make you scream."

He took a newly loaded pistol from one of the men and put a bullet in the eight-ball's foot. The eight-ball grimaced, but didn't make a sound. Sgt. Mack motioned for the men to move away. The next bullet ripped through a cheek. The eight-ball screamed and lunged for Sgt. Mack. He flipped the monster over his shoulder and pressed a steel-tipped boot against its back.

"You've screamed. Now how about you talk?" He tapped a finger against the pistol barrel for emphasis.

"They're in cages. Square blue glass."

"Good. That wasn't so hard. How many guards?"

"I don't know."

"Too bad," said Sgt. Mack. He pressed harder against the eight-ball's back.

"I don't know. I don't know. I was told to take them there and then return to Duma." The eight-ball's breath came in ragged gasps.

"Who is Duma?" asked Sgt. Mack.

"A dyad. Human and angel sharing the body. The man used to be a General."

"Alright," said Sgt. Mack. "You can leave."

He let the eight-ball get up and shooed it from the room. The three men walked back to the room the others were in. Before going in, Sgt. Mack shot the pistol one more time, putting down the eight-ball before it rounded the corner.

The group sat in silence. Sgt. Mack had just finished updating them.

"Well, we have to get them out of there," the older man said.

Sgt. Mack studied him. The man was clearly tired, but his eyes shown with a sharp intelligence and he spoke with fierce determination.

"Yes boy. I'm going with you," he told the Sgt.

"We'll leave in a couple hours."

The older man nodded and leaned his head against the back of the sofa. Might as well get some rest.

* * *

Alex's hands were shackled above his head. He tugged at the chains, but they were secure. Shuffling off to the side caught his attention. There was a scraping noise and then the room burst into warm firelight. Noma stood beside the lit torch held in a bracket on the stone wall. She smiled sadly at him.

"Welcome, Alex Lannon."

The deep, rich male voice washed over him, dragging him back into unconsciousness.

* * *

 **What do you think? Be honest. Please review!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

"The Price We Pay"

Michael sucked in a deep breath. He was annoyed. They had been locked up for several hours now and Gabriel hadn't stopped pacing and huffing. He just couldn't be still. His shoes squeaked against the floor. Michael's patience snapped.

"Can you stop? You're driving me…."

The sound of gunfire interrupted him. They turned towards the metal door. There was a loud thud, as though a body had been thrown against it, followed by muffled yelling. There was an electronic click and the door swung open. A bloodied eight-ball stumbled in, followed by two men.

"Let them out," one of the men said.

He hit the eight-ball in the back with the butt of his gun. The other man stood by the door, keeping a watchful eye on their way out. The eight-ball staggered forward. It went to Michael's cage first. It fumbled with the locks for several seconds before the door unsealed and slid open with a sigh. Michael strode out. His shoulders ached from having his arms shackled behind him for so long, but he refused to let his discomfort show.

"The other one too," the man told the eight-ball.

It snarled at him but complied.

"Come here, Michael."

Michael approached the man.

"Sgt. Ethan Mack, right? You're Archangel Corps."

"Yes sir. I'm friends with Alex and Noma. Or at least I was, before they started gallivanting around with you." Sgt. Mack grimaced. He hadn't meant to say that.

Michael nodded in understanding. The past twenty-five years had taken a lot from everyone, sometimes in unexpected ways.

"Turn around," said Sgt. Mack.

He put a hand on Michael's left shoulder and used the other to pull out the stake. He did the same thing on the other side. There was a strangled screech from across the room as the eight-ball launched itself at Gabriel, now freed from his cage. They fell to the floor in a heap. Sgt. Mack smoothly unholstered his gun, pointed it at the pair, and put a bullet in the eight-ball's head. He reholstered his gun, never once batting an eye.

"Dan, help Gabriel."

The man at the door sized up Gabriel, running a hand over his buzz cut gray hair.

"Come along, old man. I'm not going to hurt you."

Dan marched over to Gabriel and spun him around. He began pulling out the stakes.

"I'm not old. I'm experienced," Dan said.

Sgt. Mack chuckled. He was glad the older man had come with him. He pulled out a key from a pocket and undid Michael's shackles.

"I was part of the team that arrested David Whele," he told them as way of explanation. He tossed the key to Dan.

Michael slowly rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms. He really wanted to let out his wings, but he waited. He needed to let the wounds caused by the stakes heal first. It would only take a few minutes. Already he could feel the muscle restiching itself. It itched, but not as bad as regrowing skin. That was a nightmare.

"Sgt., brief me. What's the situation?" Michael ordered.

"Eight-balls have completely overrun the city. Survivors are too scattered to mount a defense. There was an announcement from General Riesen, had to have been nearly ten hours ago, the sun is up now, to bring him Alex. But something tells me it wasn't really the General speaking."

"That's correct. He is possessed."

"That confirms what we were told," said Dan.

"Your orders, sir?" Sgt. Mack asked.

"The eight-balls do not listen to either of us," said Michael, gesturing to himself and Gabriel. "We must eliminate the leader. Then we will gather survivors and send out teams to sweep the city."

"When you say 'the leader,' you mean General Riesen?" said Sgt. Mack.

"I'm afraid so." Michael put a hand on Sgt. Mack's arm. "It will be doing him a kindness," he finished gently.

"Alright, let's move out," said Sgt. Mack. He led the way. He paused once they left the room. "You should grab those guns," he told the Archangels, pointing to the floor.

Michael knelt and pried loose two guns from dead eight-balls' hands. He gave one to Gabriel.

"So uncivilized," muttered Gabriel. He took the gun anyway.

The group kept moving, catching each other up on the events of the past few weeks as they travelled.

"Who are you?" asked Michael, glancing at the older man.

"Danilo Terrinetto. Sgt. here got me and a few others to safety, but I couldn't let this young'in go off saving the day without me. I've still got some fight left." His eyes twinkled. "Used to work for the mafia. I was muscle. You needed somebody whacked, I was your guy. After I fulfilled my contract, I ran security for casinos. Been here ever since."

"You've had quite the life," commented Sgt. Mack.

"Better than a desk job."

They didn't speak anymore until they reached the tower. The Archangel brothers glanced at each other and nodded in silent agreement.

"Okay kids, time to go up. Well, kid and old man," smirked Gabriel.

Each brother gripped one of the humans, unfurled their wings, and powered upward. They were on the opposite side of Riesen tower from where they had met Dyad Riesen last time. There were balconies on the upper floors. They landed with a small thud. Dan ran a hand over his short hair and grumbled something about "pushy angels." Gabriel grinned. Sgt. Mack turned the handle on the glass doors, but they were locked. He knocked out some of the glass and reached through to unlock the door from the inside.

"It's been a while since I was on detail here, but I think I remember my way around. Follow me," he said.

They crept through rooms and down hallways. The Archangels kept their wings out. The humans were careful not to get too close. They did not meet any resistance on the upper floors. It took ten minutes to creep to the other side of the building and down seven floors to where Michael and Gabriel had least seen Dyad Riesen. They had two more floors to go when they encountered a group of eight-balls. Michael took the lead, deftly dodging wild punches. He spread out his wings as much as he could in the hallway, blocking the others' view and keeping the eight-balls from getting behind him. Instead of using the gun, Michael tucked it into his waistband. Whenever an eight-ball got close, he reached out and snapped its neck. The eight-balls weren't smart, coming after Michael even after he killed some of them. Michael's method was silent, but effective.

Once finished, he called over his shoulder, "This way." He was familiar with this section of the tower.

Sgt. Mack and Dan followed him, Gabriel pulling up the rear in case they were attacked from behind. Sgt. Mack was glad the Archangels were helping, but he didn't like having Gabriel behind him. It made his insides squirm.

They met three more groups of eight-balls before they got near Dyad Riesen. Each time, Michael eliminated the threat. They gathered in a room a few doors down from where Dyad Riesen was. They could hear him boasting of his victory to the eight-balls with him. Sgt. Mack stood guard just inside the door.

"What's the plan? How are we going to pop this guy?" asked Dan.

"There is a secret entrance to that room, concealed by a bookcase. The two of you will enter through there while Gabriel and I go in through the front."

"Wouldn't it be better if you snuck in?" asked Sgt. Mack.

"No," answered Gabriel. "He may not know about you yet. However, he expects us to attack. We will draw their attention. Once they are focused on us, you will enter and start shooting immediately."

"You might get hit," Dan said.

"Our wings will shield us," said Gabriel, giving his wings a light shake.

Dan nodded thoughtfully. He was reminded of his mafia days. The Feds had never caught him because his plans always involved carefully thought-out layers of deception.

Michael walked over to the wall and pressed against it. A rectangular section depressed and slid to the left.

"Follow this passageway for thirty-seven yards. You'll notice a change along the wall. The bookcase is on hinges. Just push. Wait until you hear us talking. We don't want to tip our hand too soon."

Sgt. Mack and Dan entered the passageway and Michael shut the hidden door.

"Well, it should be easy to walk thirty-seven yards in the pitch black," Sgt. Mack said sarcastically.

Dan grabbed his arm.

"I've got this."

Michael and Gabriel cautiously approached the room Dyad Riesen was in. They hadn't seen any more eight-balls for several minutes and worried some might come from behind them after they were in the room. They paused outside the double doors, listening. They couldn't hear Dyad Riesen anymore, but there were at least twenty eight-balls laughing and talking. Judging by the occasional crash, there must have been some fighting too. The brothers looked at each other in affirmation. Instead of busting down the doors and causing a commotion, they walked in calmly, wings retracted, and waited for the eight-balls to notice them. Immediately, they saw a problem.

Sgt. Mack and Dan were nearly to the bookcase when something made Dan pull them to a stop. He felt uneasy, like he did when the Feds were closing in.

"Trap," he said.

They started to back up but hit something warm and solid. There was someone behind them.

"I must applaud your effort," a voice said in front of them. "Bring them."

Light spilled into the dark passageway as the bookcase was swung open. Dyad Riesen stepped into the room, followed by Sgt. Mack and Dan. They were held tightly by two eight-balls. A third drifted behind them.

The Archangels stood motionless. Every eight-ball had a gun and was pointing it at the humans. When Michael saw the defiance in their eyes, his chest swelled with pride. They really were extraordinary creatures, humans. Sometimes they wore their emotions openly and acted on impulse, a lot like Gabriel. Other times, humans were logical, giving each action careful thought, much like Michael. He envied them. Anytime he acted out on impulse, he suffered for weeks, like he had after discovering higher angels had been experimented on in Vega. He suspected Gabriel felt the same way whenever he tried to be logical. Michael nearly laughed out loud at the thought of a logical Gabriel. As it was, he did smile.

Dyad Riesen studied the Archangels curiously. He leaned against a table, fingers rubbing against the smooth wood. Michael's smile turned his curiosity into rage.

"Do you think this is a game, Michael? Fine then. Let's play. One will be killed, the other possessed." He pointed to the humans. "Decide their fates."

Michael frowned. Sgt. Mack and Dan had risked themselves for him. He had to find a way to save them, but if he moved, they would all die. He racked his brain. There had to be a way. Death was bad, but possession was worse. That was it. Maybe he couldn't do anything, but Gabriel could. Michael covered his face with his hands and slumped his shoulders in defeat. He seemed to fold in on himself.

"I don't know," he moaned. As quietly as he could, voice muffled further by his hands, he whispered to Gabriel, "Possess Riesen." He hoped Gabriel heard him. He had to be quiet enough for the sensitive eight-ball/Dyad hearing to not pick up his words.

"This is impossible," Gabriel said.

Michael knew it was meant for him.

"Please," he begged, falling to his knees.

The eight-balls laughed at his weakness. Gabriel glared at them, waves of anger radiating from him. He dropped to Michael's side. He put an arm around him protectively and turned his back to the room.

"I can't possess two at once," he murmured.

"Try. Don't make me decide."

He sighed and helped Michael stand up. If anyone else had asked this of him, he would have refused, but he could never deny Michael, at least not for long, a couple lifetimes maybe. The possessions he did required focus and patience, two things Gabriel was not known for. He closed his eyes and tuned out everyone but Dyad Riesen. He relaxed his body and entered a trance-like state, trusting Michael to take care of him if something were to happen.

"Tick tock, Michael," Dyad Riesen said.

Gabriel held on to the sound of Riesen's voice and expanded his mind. He was swimming along the edge of consciousness, soft black surrounding him. He searched for the shadowy cord that would take him to the lower angel. He focused on the human General Riesen too, the man who had defeated an Archangel. Gabriel was still a bit sore over that loss. He found General Riesen's cord, an earthy red-brown, intertwined with the shadowy cord of the lower angel Duma. Gabriel felt for the end of his cord and sent it out to connect with the other two. He shivered internally when he saw that his cord, usually a dazzling kaleidoscope of colors, was beginning to fade. Unlike the other times, his cord would not connect. He figured it must be because he was trying to possess two souls. He studied the cords, wondering what made connecting with them different. Then he saw it. The ends of the cords were still separated. He would have to connect with both simultaneously. Gabriel again focused on his own cord, tracing it to its end. He sucked in a ragged breath, his concentration nearly breaking. He hadn't been this scared since Father's disappearance. Very carefully, he began to partially unravel his cord into two pieces. He felt a split in his mind. It was like there was a replica of him, a shadow, floating alongside him. He could even feel his essence in the shadow-him. With his cord partially split, he tried connecting to General/Dyad Riesen again. This time, the split ends of his cord connected to theirs. The cords were direct lines to the soul and mind. To possess someone, Gabriel had to force his mind and soul on them. If he was stronger, it would take. Even split, he was. The colors of his cord rushed along the other two as he took control. Soon, their cords looked like his.

Michael's fake fear was becoming real. He had continued to act beaten, begging for Dyad Riesen to spare the humans. He even suggested turning both into eight-balls in an effort to buy time for Gabriel. He flicked his eyes to his brother, too quick for anyone to notice. At first, Gabriel's breathing had been slow, but steady. Michael had guessed he was in a meditative state. But, when Gabriel's breathing had become strangled, Michael nearly lost it. He would kill Sgt. Mack and Dan himself and tear down the city if it meant keeping Gabriel safe. There were no lengths he wouldn't go to protect his brother. He was nearly ready to destroy the place when Gabriel's breathing evened out. It had been nearly three minutes since they had entered the room.

"Very well, Michael. They will both become eight-balls. Take them downstairs." Dyad Riesen waved idly towards the humans.

Michael noticed the slight shift in Dyad Riesen's speech pattern, but doubted anyone else did. Sgt. Mack and Dan were taken from the room. They struggled against their captors. As he passed, Sgt. Mack gave Michael a questioning look. Michael shook his head slightly. Sgt. Mack understood. Don't say anything.

"Put down your weapons. We will not harm our family," said Dyad Riesen.

Some of the eight-balls turned towards him, confused. Michael pulled out his gun and reached over to grab Gabriel's too. He darted through the room, shooting with perfect accuracy. He remembered watching a movie with Alex. Both having the time and access to the technology to watch television was rare. Alex loved the _Matrix_ movies. Michael chuckled to himself. He was way cooler than Neo.

While Michael was busy with the eight-balls, Gabriel was fighting his own battle. He had been able to communicate with General Riesen, not in words, but images and emotions. The General had made it clear he would rather die than continue letting his body be used while he was trapped in his own mind. Despite their differences, Gabriel respected General Riesen and wanted to help him. He would either expel Duma, or damage the body beyond the lower angel's ability to repair. He turned his attention to the lower angel, letting General Riesen's presence drift to the background. He tried to force his will on Duma and push him out. But, with his strength split in two, it was challenging. He couldn't disconnect from General Riesen without losing both. Duma was strong for a lower angel and fought back. Gabriel felt the pressure against his mind. It had been the same when he had possessed higher angels. They too had fought back. With only half his power directed at the lower angel, he had to focus even more. Through Riesen's eyes, he saw Michael finish off the last of the eight-balls and dart from the room. He pushed against Duma harder, reminding the lower angel who he was dealing with. Slowly, the shadowy cord of the lower angel's and General Riesen's red-brown cord began to unwind from each other.

General Riesen couldn't believe he existed beside such powerful beings. When he had opened himself to Duma and felt the angel's soul spread through him, he had felt insignificant. Now that he was sharing his body with Gabriel too, he knew he had been wrong. Compared to the lower angel, he was weaker, yes, but not insignificant. Compared to the Archangel, he was a speck of dust beside a mountain. Gabriel's presence was all-consuming. His mind was so foreign. It was an expanse so large, no human could comprehend it. The influx of power had nearly fractured General Riesen's mortal soul. It would have if Gabriel wasn't focusing more on the lower angel.

General Riesen felt a subtle shift and realized Gabriel was forcing the lower angel out. He threw his mental weight against Duma too. He had done this before during the brief moments he had been in control of his body. He had never been able to completely push the lower angel out though. He hoped that with Gabriel's help, he would be able to get past that final hurdle.

Together they forced Duma out. General Riesen felt hollow and cold, not his body, but his soul. He feared a part of him had been lost, either when he first shared his body, or as a result of Duma's expulsion. Gabriel still possessed him. There was nothing he could do. He stood no chance against the Archangel. He felt a light pressure against his mind. Gabriel was asking for permission to communicate with him. General Riesen was curious. Before, Gabriel had burst through his mental barriers. He opened his mind more fully. Warmth spread through him, filling the hollow spaces and chasing away the cold. He sent out a wave of gratitude as Gabriel's presence slipped away.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Michael, face taunt with worry.

Stop that," said Gabriel, reaching for one of Michael's hands. "You clench your fists when you're worried."

"I do not."

Michael leaned forward and gave his brother a quick hug before turning to General Riesen. Sgt. Mack and Dan had returned with Michael and were pointing guns at the General.

"It's alright. He is himself," Gabriel said.

General Riesen walked toward him and clasped his hands in his own.

"Thank you. Thank you." The General's voice was thick with emotion.

Gabriel smiled gently, for once looking like a benevolent angel. General Riesen turned around and took in the death that surrounded them. His eyes scanned the room, stopping at the far corner. His face crumpled. He took a few hesitant steps before running over. He collapsed to the floor and pulled his daughter's body into his arms. He shook from his sobs. The others left the room to give him some privacy.

Five minutes later, he came out. He wiped away the last of his tears and addressed the others.

"Your swords are being kept in a room on the first floor, beside the dining hall," he told the Archangels. "Do you remember where that is?"

Michael nodded. He turned to Sgt. Mack. "Fill him in on the plan." He and Gabriel began to leave.

"Michael," called General Riesen. "Whele is there too. Last I saw him, he was in rough shape."

Michael nodded once as he and his brother left. They found the room with their swords easily enough, and there in the back, bound by ropes and gagged, was David Whele. Blood dripped from a gash above his left eye. His clothes were torn and stained with blood and mud.

"Do we have to?" whined Gabriel.

Michael punched him lightly on the arm, a teasing smile on his face. He strapped on his swords and walked up to Whele. As he removed the ropes, Whele's eyes flicked open. He gazed blearily at Michael. He only kept his eyes open a second more before closing them and tilting his head back with a groan. Michael finished removing the ropes and pulled out the cloth gagging Whele. He looped one of Whele's arms over his shoulder and put an arm around his waist. Whele couldn't stand on his own and leaned heavily on Michael. They followed Gabriel back to the others, Whele grunting every few steps.

Dan was waiting for them when they returned. "We moved to a different room. This way," he said.

Once at their new meeting place, Michael gently deposited David Whele on a cushioned armchair. He waved Sgt. Mack over.

"Check him for injuries."

All or Vega's soldiers had basic first aid training.

"Michael," said General Riesen. "Where is Alex?"

Michael stared at the elaborate rug beneath his feet. "Gone."

"But we will bring him back," Gabriel said, walking to his brother's side.

"Why should we trust you, either of you?" said Whele.

He struggled to his feet. He swayed, but stayed upright. He staggered over to Gabriel and stood inches away from him.

"I lost my son because of you. You poisoned him with your promises." Whele paused for a moment. He seemed to fight with himself, unsure if he should continue. "He loved you more than me, and now he is gone," he finished quietly. He dropped his gaze from the Archangel's and took a couple steps back.

"He loved you and feared me. He followed me because he knew it would get your attention." Gabriel turned his focus to Sgt. Mack. "Sgt., let's go form those teams." He began to leave with the Sgt. in tow.

"You didn't answer me," said Whele. "Why should we trust you?"

Gabriel stopped and turned back to Whele.

"Michael loves Alex and I love Michael. Trust that."

* * *

Alex groaned as he came to. His stone prison was still lit by flames. He looked around and saw Noma asleep, sitting on the floor against the wall beside him. He stretched out a leg to nudge her.

"Noma, wake up," he whispered.

She hummed and tilted her head up to look at him.

"Hey you. You've been asleep for hours," she said.

"Noma, where are we?" He continued to whisper.

Noma laughed. "Alex, you don't have to whisper. He will still hear you." She stood and stretched.

"Who are you talking about?"

She walked to the end of the room and gazed into a rectangular stone tub. Alex heard the gentle lapping of water and craned his neck to see inside.

"Him, my eldest brother," she answered.

Alex stifled a scream as a body floated to the surface.

"What the Hell?" Alex gasped.

"Not Hell per say, but close enough," said the deep rich male voice Alex had heard when last he was conscious. "I am the Son of Morning, the first angel. I am Lucifer."

His melodious voice hung in the air. Alex began to relax. How could anything with a voice so beautiful be dangerous? It was like honey and chocolate with a hint of heat. It wrapped around him and soothed the worries running through his mind. Alex forgot about Michael. He forgot about Noma's betrayal. He forgot about Claire and his unborn child. Everything slipped away, leaving him in bliss. Almost. There was still one worry that persisted. Alex couldn't quite place it, but he held on to it tightly. The one thing he knew for sure, if he gave in to the voice, he would die.

* * *

 **Thank you to everyone who has faved, followed, and reviewed. You guys are awesome! I plan to post a new chapter once a week, so as long as I can stay ahead writing, you won't have to wait too long.**

 **On a side note, here are some interesting facts about names used in the show: Dyad means consisting of two parts. Duma is the ruling assembly of Russia (like Congress for those of you who live in the U.S.) I think that name worked well for the direction I took, seeing as Duma wanted to rule Vega. Why do you think Mr. Vaun Wilmott and the writers choose that name? Hopefully we will someday find out.**

 **Anyway, what do you think of chapter two? I would love any feedback.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Dreams Don't Come True"

It took most of the day to clear Vega of eight-balls. Michael, Gabriel, Sgt. Mack, and Dan each led teams of survivors, any who were capable of fighting. David Whele and General Riesen both rested. Whele was bruised and cut from when he had been captured by eight-balls after fending them off so Queen Arika of Helena could escape. General Riesen was healing from the gunshots inflicted by Noma. While possessed by Duma, his wounds had healed at a remarkable pace, but not completely. However, they had healed enough that he wasn't in immediate danger. He wasn't mad at Noma for shooting him. She had done it to save Alex. He was mad, though, that she had betrayed them. Michael had told him and Whele what had happened. Having both just lost their children, they understood his pain and didn't press for details.

A private funeral was held for Claire Riesen and William Whele. They were buried beyond the city walls as the sun set. Their fathers stood vigil as the purple and blue hues of night fell across the desert land. The Archangels stayed too, quietly standing several yards back with their wings arched gracefully over their heads. Whele had left for a short time, returning with a smooth round stone in his arms. Even though it was heavy, he carefully placed it at the head of his son's grave. He left again, this time returning with a stone for Claire. He rolled it into place at the head of her grave. He dusted off his hands on his pants and stood next to General Riesen.

"When the sun rises and sets, the stones will light up, just like they lit up our lives."

General Riesen clapped him on the shoulder and smiled tremulously. He couldn't speak, his throat tight from held-in sobs. The rest of the dead would be buried the next day in a mass grave. Friends and family had the option to collect their dead and say good bye on their own, but few did so. So many had died. For most, there wasn't anyone to miss them.

The next day was busy. General Riesen and Whele, as the only known surviving members of the consul, decided to uphold Claire Riesen's last act as Lady of the City. The V System would be demolished. However, no one's status would be immediately affected. Whele insisted this was better than trying to redistribute wealth while the city was in shambles. They made the announcement at mid-morning. The possibility of a brighter future invigorated the citizens. Everyone helped to restore Vega. General Riesen and Whele even opened their doors to those with nowhere to go. It would take months for the city to recover, but they had built the city once before. This time, they just had to rebuild.

General Riesen invited Whele, Michael, and Gabriel to dinner. His wife had been an amazing cook and he had often helped her in the kitchen, so he wasn't too bad himself. He glared across the table as they ate. He had loved the lower angel in his wife's body, and to lose her twice had been terrible. He knew Gabriel hadn't been himself when he killed her, but the General still held a grudge. Even if Gabriel hadn't been tainted by Darkness, General Riesen suspected he would have still killed her.

When his wife had been possessed, he was devastated. He had thought he would have to kill the love of his life. He had the gun pointed at her, ready to pull the trigger, when the lower angel had spoken to him.

"She loved you, very much."

It had unnerved him, seeing his wife's lips move but knowing the words weren't hers. Yet, he paused. The lower angel had spoken with honest conviction. He wondered what else it knew. He found her a safe place, far away from Claire, to stay and checked on her often. For weeks, they shared stories. He learned that the lower angel, although bodiless in its natural form, identified as female. She liked his wife's name and asked if she could be called that. General Riesen had yelled at her, saying she could never replace his Clementine. He stopped visiting. A couple weeks later, he checked on her. She was gone. She had left a note explaining how deeply sorry she was. She considered him a friend and regretted the pain she had caused him. She would no longer remind him of what he had lost. General Riesen spent two days tracking her down. When he found her and called her Clementine, she had fallen into his arms. It was the first time they had touched.

After dinner, the group adjourned to a sitting room. General Riesen poured a finger of brandy for Whele and himself. The Archangels had politely declined when he offered them some.

"So what's next?" he asked, settling into his favorite armchair. It was upholstered in an awful green velvet, but was well-cushioned.

"We will leave tomorrow morning," said Michael. "The forty-eight hours will be up by then. We need to find Alex." He choked on the name.

"We will," Gabriel said softly.

He lightly touched Michael's back as he passed, heading to a couch. He stretched out, taking up all the space. Michael walked over and smacked him. Gabriel flashed him a grin and moved his legs so Michael could sit.

"I should have been there. I should have protected him," Michael moaned. He buried his face in his hands, elbows propped on his knees.

Whele started to speak, but fell silent under Gabriel's glare. The Archangel indicated that the humans should leave. They grumbled, but obeyed. There was nothing they could do to comfort Michael.

"It isn't your fault, Michael. I took you away. This is my fault. The Darkness consumed me. I wasn't strong." Gabriel's voice was hard as he said the last sentence. He felt like a failure, unable to protect his brother, not even from himself.

Michael gripped his shoulder. "Let's get some sleep. We fly to Helena in the morning. There may be angels there with information. We need any lead we can get."

Michael stood near one of Vega's gates, preparing to leave. The morning sun lit up the sky in delicate peach and orange. General Riesen shook hands with him.

"You take care of yourself, Michael. I've become rather fond of you."

"And you as well."

Michael stepped through the gate and unfurled his wings. He squinted up and saw Gabriel executing an incredible acrobatic display. "Show off," he yelled.

"Michael," a voice called from behind him.

He turned around and waited for Sgt. Mack to jog up to him.

"You're leaving already?" the Sgt. asked.

"Yes."

"I know you have other responsibilities, but Vega needs you too."

"No, Vega doesn't need me," Michael said. "Sgt., you survived the release of an amphora, fought against overwhelming numbers, saved the city, and rescued my brother and I. Vega needs you, which is why I am promoting you. You are now Staff Sergeant Ethan Mack."

Michael glanced over at General Riesen. "Do you bear witness?"

"I do," General Riesen said.

Michael nodded to both men and took off, buffeting them with the wind from his wings. Sgt. Mack waved in farewell and reentered the city.

"Time to rebuild," he said.

General Riesen clapped him on the back. "Time to rebuild."

* * *

Helena was cold. Ice coated everything, shimmering under the brilliant azure sky. Michael and Gabriel landed a half-mile outside the city. They didn't want people to think they were attacking. They walked in amicable silence. Helena didn't have a wall like Vega. The city didn't need one, being surrounded by the La Jolla bluffs and Pacific Ocean.

As they neared, Michael called out to a woman on guard, "We seek an audience with the Queen of Helena."

She pulled a radio from her waist. "You are?"

"Archangels," Gabriel said, crossing his arms.

The radio dropped from the woman's hands and her eyes went wide. She scrambled to pick it up and stammered into it. A few seconds later, she received orders to escort the Archangels to Queen Arika.

"This way please."

She led them through the former college campus, staying on cleared walkways that wound between brick and stone buildings. She stopped before and administrative building. She opened one of the doors and ushered them inside.

"Her office is towards the back in what used to be the Chancellor's office."

As the neared, the woman nodded to the two guards on duty. Opening the door, she said, "Madam, may I present Archangels Michael and Gabriel."

Queen Arika stood from her chair and walked around her desk.

"Michael, I'm glad you survived the attack on Vega. Please, have a seat." She gestured to a row of chairs along the wall.

"Thank you," Michael said.

He and Gabriel folded themselves into two chairs while Queen Arika backed up until she was leaning against her desk. Wide windows behind her let in light and illuminated oil paintings on the far wall of those that had previously held the office.

"What brings you here?" she asked.

She kept her eyes on Michael, ignoring Gabriel completely. Gabriel didn't mind though. He tended to zone out during meetings, preferring to let Michael dodge the sharks swimming in political waters. He would only jump in if there was need for an impassioned speech, or for someone to be threatened. That was the way it had always been, until Father's disappearance had forced the brothers to make warring decisions. After that, Gabriel often had to settle squabbles among the angels who had sided with him. Michael's voice brought him back to the present.

"We are searching for higher angels with information pertinent to our mission. Helena seems a good place to start." Michael shrugged nonchalantly. He didn't want to reveal more than he had to.

"There are no angels here," Queen Arika said. Her voice was tightly controlled, lacking inflection.

Gabriel sensed the lie. "It is unwise to withhold the truth from us, Queen Arika." A subtle note of anger laced his words. "Uriel has visited this city."

The Queen finally shifted her gaze to Gabriel. "And it is unwise to speak unless spoken to. Your presence here is tolerated because I respect Michael, not you."

Gabriel was at her throat instantly. He lifted her with one hand. She clawed at his arm, breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Filthy human," he spat. A storm raged in his eyes. "Your kind has no respect, no decency. You deserve death."

Michael touched his arm. The storm quieted and Gabriel released Queen Arika. She fell to the floor and rubbed her neck.

"Even think such thoughts of my brother again, and you will suffer an excruciating end," Michael told her.

Queen Arika tried to glare at the Archangels, but instead shrank back from the immense power they exuded. She cowered at their feet.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I really don't know about any angels here. Uriel never told me if there were any, but she sometimes walked the city alone. That's all I know."

Michael offered her a hand to pull her to her feet. She continued speaking, her words starting to run together.

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you like. I'll have rooms set up for you."

"Thank you," Gabriel said.

Queen Arika glanced at him, surprised by how grateful he sounded. She caught the quick flick of his eyes to his brother. He was worried about Michael, and that didn't bode well for humanity.

The female guard from earlier directed them to the guestrooms. The guard told them there would be someone stationed at the front door of their building at all times should they need anything. It sounded more like imprisonment. After she left, Gabriel flounced on the bed. He tugged at a loose string on the comforter as he watched Michael pace back and forth, fists clenched. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He put himself in Michael's path and grabbed his arms.

"You need to relax. You're no good to anyone when you're strung out like this."

Michael smiled faintly. "Sounds like something I would say to you. Since when have you been so wise?"

"That word has come up a lot today. So, I guess since today," Gabriel said brightly.

Michael laughed, truly laughed, his whole body shaking. He felt better, however marginally. Gabriel always knew what to say to make him smile.

"Let's see if any of our younger siblings are around," Michael said.

They spent the rest of the say scouring the city, but didn't see anyone they recognized. The evening brought bruised clouds and a biting wind. Michael stood by the window in his room and wrapped his arms around his torso as he watched the sleet blow by. His sensitive hearing picked up Gabriel's even breathing in the next room. The corners of Michael's mouth tilted up. He wished he could sleep. Thoughts of Alex raced through his mind. The smile slipped from his face. Icy fear gripped his heart, colder than the wind howling along the bluffs. He sunk to his knees. He rolled over and pressed his back against the wall, drawing his knees to his chest. He pressed harder, focusing on the sensation to distract himself. Michael bit back a sob. He didn't want Gabriel to hear him and come to check on him. He had seen Gabriel like this once, when he had lost David. Michael had felt helpless. He didn't want Gabriel to feel like that now. Michael sat on the floor for hours, exhaustion only drawing him to the bed after the sun had already begun its ascent.

"Michael, get up. You've got to see this."

Gabriel prodded his brother in the ribs. Michael groaned and threw an arm over his eyes.

"Come on, come on. Get up."

Gabriel's whine grated Michael's ears. He rolled over and hoped Gabriel would go away if he ignored him. Fat chance of that. Gabriel grabbed Michael's arm and pulled him out of the bed, depositing him in a tangled mess of blankets on the cool wood floor. Michael glared at his twin. He spun himself around on the smooth floor, a leg extended. Gabriel crashed to the floor. He bounced right back up like nothing happened.

"Hurry up. You have to see these people. They are positively medieval," Gabriel said gleefully.

He bounded from the room, leaving Michael to struggle alone against the blankets twisted around his limbs. Michael freed himself and stood, stretching languorously. He noted the sun's position outside his window and promptly yawned. It was late morning. He had only slept for four hours. He pulled on the rest of his clothes and boots and strapped on his swords. Anything that had Gabriel so excited had to be dangerous.

Michael followed the chattering crowd to a street leading out of the city. Spotting Gabriel's dark form, he jogged over. Just as Gabriel turned to greet him, Michael punched him in the jaw.

"Don't wake me up again," he growled.

Gabriel gingerly rubbed at the already forming bruise. At least nothing was broken. Michael had held back, but only just.

"Here they come," Gabriel said harshly, pointing down the street. He hadn't meant to sound mean, but now he had a bruise while in a city full of beautiful women. At least it would heal within a couple days.

They peered down the street, view unhindered. No one wanted to be near the two volatile angels. Five horses trotted down the pavement, one in front and then two rows of two. Four of the riders were garbed in dark brown pants and boots and long sleeved black shirts with a silver insignia. The fifth wore khaki pants, held up by a brown belt, and a light green collared shirt, neatly tucked. He was clearly the leader, protected by the others. He rode in the first row of two. All the riders had swords dangling from their hips and all but the first rider and the leader had shields on their backs. All the guards also had a pistol strapped to a leg. As they neared the throng of people, the first rider fell back, staying just in front and to the side of the leader. The other guard mimicked the position. The other two guards held their positions in the back.

Michael was surprised to see that two of the guards were female. Uriel and Raphael had taught him, several times, that any woman was a force to be reckoned with, but most humans still didn't seem to grasp that. Obviously, these ones did. What's more, the guard who had led the group into Helena was female. Her dark blue eyes swept the crowd. She tightened when she saw Michael and Gabriel. Her horse's nostrils flared. She gently patted the black stallion's neck, muttering soothing words, and they both relaxed. Michael nudged Gabriel, making sure he noticed. As the group passed, she smiled warmly at the Archangels.

"Oh, she is going to be trouble," Gabriel said.

"Indubitably," Michael replied.

* * *

Sunlight filtered through the green canopy above. A warm breeze ruffled the leaves. Alex stretched out on the blanket, turning his face towards the giggling beside him. A ladybug had landed on Willow's leg. She giggled again, Claire's laughter joining hers. Alex reached up a hand to trail his fingers through Claire's hair. She smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. He captured her face in his hand and directed her lips to his. Once they pulled apart, he sighed happily. Willow crawled over and snuggled against his side. Alex breathed in her scent, her blonde curls tickling his face. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek. He glanced at Claire. Her brow was slightly furrowed, but she relaxed under his loving gaze. He knew exactly what she was thinking. They had come so close to losing it all. Sometimes, it felt as though the war had been a dream. Memories were hazy. Other times, images would come back in sharp detail. Alex was plagued by those images. He knew Michael was back in Heaven, safe, but Alex would still have visions of him bleeding out after fighting Furiad. If his dreams weren't of Michael, they were of Claire. She always died, every time, usually bleeding out in his arms. In those dreams, he never even knew his daughter. Alex forced himself back to the present moment. He didn't want to spoil the perfect afternoon pick nick with his two beautiful girls. He looked over at his wife again. Her frightened eyes focused on her stomach. He followed her gaze to her midriff. She had a hand pressed against her stomach. When she pulled it away, it was covered in blood. Everything went dark.

Noma shifted nervously. She had no idea what Lucifer was showing Alex, but everything had seemed fine until now. Alex was curled up tightly on the floor amid a pile of blankets and pillows Noma had procured for him. He was still chained up, but the chains were long enough that he could move around in his sleep. Noma longed to comfort him, but held back. Lucifer had given strict instructions that she was to guard only. She couldn't touch or talk to Alex without permission. Lucifer hadn't been mean, merely matter-of-fact, stating that any interaction would disrupt his plan. Noma kept her eyes locked on Alex until he relaxed. She breathed a silent sigh of relief. She knew when she accepted this mission that it would be difficult and dangerous, but this was testing her even more that she had anticipated.

* * *

 **How am I doing so far? Are you enjoying the story? Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

"Position of Power"

Queen Arika eyed the newcomers speculatively. She sat at the head of a long wooden table, the Archangels on either side of her. She had requested they join her immediately after the arrival of the strangers. She firmly believed it was important to establish dominance right away when meeting someone for the first time. She had done exactly that. Satisfaction coursed through her. She had only allowed two of the five newcomers inside the conference room. The leader and the female guard with dark blue eyes stood at the other end of the table. Queen Arika would not invite them to sit. She watched the guard examine the room. There were no windows and only one set of doors. Eight of Helena's soldiers lined the walls and there were four more on the other side of the doors, keeping an eye on the other three newcomers. All five had been relieved of their weapons. The guard's gaze rested on Queen Arika. A slight smile played across the guard's lips. She knew the game and was undaunted. The leader strode forward confidently and took a seat at the other end of the table. His guard moved with him, almost as though she had known what he would do. She did not miss the soldiers around the room tensing, but she seemed completely at ease.

"Queen Arika," the leader said warmly. "It is a pleasure to be in your beautiful city, and to be in the presence of such a magnificent woman." He bowed his head in her direction. "My name is Charles Bell. I am the mayor of Fairmont. This is Kenna." He gestured to his guard. "The others are Bree, Johnathan, and Dedrick."

Queen Arika hid her anger. Within a minute of entering the conference room, Charles Bell, mayor of Fairmont, and his cocky guard had already taken control. She had to regain whatever ground she could. She gave him a dazzling smile and spread her arms wide.

"Welcome to Helena. We are pleased to have you. What brings you here?"

"Straight to business. My kind of gal," said Kenna.

Mayor Bell waved off the comment before answering. "We would like to discuss forming an alliance between our cities."

"I'm sorry to say I've never heard of Fairmont," said Queen Arika. "Have you?" she asked the Archangels.

They shook their heads.

"Ah, that is completely understandable. Our city isn't as well-known as Helena. We are only a couple years old," said Mayor Bell.

"So what you are telling me is that you are a ragtag group hoping to suckle whatever meager life you can from my city." Queen Arika glared down the length of the table.

It was like a switch had been flipped. Mayor Bell's cordial mannerisms slipped away, leaving a hard man in their wake. Kenna too changed. She had been a potential threat when she first entered the city, but now she brimmed with the promise of violence and absolute assuridity that she would win. It was enough to make Michael and Gabriel jump to their feet and move a step toward her. She did not flinch, not even when she saw Michael fingering his swords.

Mayor Bell spoke, his voice no louder than before, but leeched of warmth. "Fairmont is a fortified city of thousands. We do not need to suckle from anyone. Perhaps it is best we leave." He stood and turned his back on Queen Arika. He moved toward the door, Kenna backing up to stay with him.

"Wait, please," called Queen Arika. "I apologize for my assumption. Please, stay."

Mayor Bell returned to his seat, warmth flooding his features again. Kenna returned to her previous spot and the Archangels sat again. The situation diffused as quickly as it had escalated.

"I understand your confusion my lady. It is rare to hear of such a large group these days, except for in established places like here," Mayor Bell said. "Maybe we could get to know each other first, before discussing an alliance."

He spoke in such a way that the decision was left with Queen Arika. She knew he had done it specifically to give her back some control. It was a brilliant and manipulative move, the sort of thing she would do. She would play along for now, using the time to study Mayor Bell and his guards.

"Yes, I think that is an excellent idea. I would love to learn more about you. I'll have guestrooms prepared for you and we have stables for your horses."

"And our weapons?" asked Kenna.

"Ah, yes. You see, we can't have you walking around armed. I'm sure nothing would happen, but my people would be uneasy."

"At least or swords and shields. The guns can be returned upon our departure."

Queen Arika bit her lip.

"The Archangels carry theirs, and they are a tad more dangerous than us," Kenna pointed out, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Very well. Swords and shields, no guns," said Queen Arika. "Now how about we have lunch? You must be hungry."

"That would be lovely. Thank you," said Mayor Bell.

Lunch was an interesting affair. Queen Arika and Mayor Bell shared details about their cities, nothing vital, but just enough to keep the other party interested. Kenna pushed her chair back and got up. Although she was a capable politician, she left Mayor Bell to handle the wily queen alone. He could handle himself in a fight, either of fists or words. She made her way to a window and gazed at the sky, watching fluffy clouds drift by. She felt more than heard the Archangels approach. They stood on either side of her. No one spoke for over a minute, Kenna breaking the silence first.

"Mayor Bell believes we should wait to share this information, since it is not an immediate threat to Helena. However, I believe it is best to share now."

"You should obey your superior," Michael cut in.

Kenna turned her head to glare at him. "I am the Guardian of the City. For civilian concerns, Mayor Bell is in charge, but I have authority in all military matters. This is a military matter. We have received reports that villages under Fairmont's protection have been attacked by Nephilim."

"Impossible," said Gabriel. "The Nephilim were wiped out ages ago. You are mistaken."

Kenna spun around to face him. "Oh really? Would you like to tell that to those who have lost loved ones to those angelic offspring?" She eyed him for a moment, thinking. "Perhaps you should see for yourself."

She scanned the cafeteria until she saw what she was looking for. She walked over to someone, had a quick conversation, and returned with a scrap of paper.

"These are coordinates for a village recently attacked. Check it out. If you still think it wasn't Nephilim, I'll heed your word."

She handed the paper to Gabriel, nodded farewell, and rejoined Queen Arika and Mayor Bell at their table.

"This is absurd," Gabriel said, crumpling the paper in his fist.

"We should at least check it out. If she is right…"

Michael didn't have to finish the sentence. They both remembered all too well the damage even a single Nephilim could do.

* * *

It took three hours to fly to the village Kenna had given them the coordinates to. A handful of people saw them coming and dashed inside the nearest building. Michael and Gabriel landed in the center of the town. Dried pools of blood stained the dusty ground. They saw the flash of afternoon sunlight glinting on a gun barrel seconds before shots were fired. They folded their wings around them, facing opposite directions to protect each other's backs. The bullets bounced off them harmlessly.

During a pause in the firing, Gabriel shouted, "Kenna of Fairmont sent us."

"Hold your fire," a man yelled.

He appeared in a nearby doorway, rifle leaning against his shoulder, and slowly walked into the open. He stopped several yards from the Archangels.

"Kenna hasn't sent angels here before. Did something happen?"

"She said your village was recently attacked. We would like to hear from you what happened," Michael said.

The man grimaced and turned around. He waved for the Archangels to follow. They retracted their wings as they walked, guns trailing their movements. The man led them to a small white house. There were two chairs on the porch. The man held up a finger and then went inside. He returned a moment later with another chair and motioned for them to sit. He still had his rifle, placing it across his legs as he leaned back into his chair.

"Happened 'bout a week ago. These three people, two men and a woman, all attractive, came through. We offered them food and shelter. They were very polite, but something seemed off about them. They were a bit old-fashioned, the way they talked and behaved."

The man scrunched his face and rubbed a thumb along the rifle barrel.

"They said they only needed to stay for a night and then they would be off. Shouldn't have let them stay."

He shook his head and his eyes clouded over as he thought about what happened.

"The first scream came from the house the woman was staying in. By the time I got there, the woman was gone and the couple who lived there were dead, throats torn out. The next screams came from the village square, where you landed," the man said. "Those strangers were zipping around, incredibly fast, too fast to defend against. Everywhere they went, someone would die. They would pause long enough to lap at the blood, not like a vampire, but like they enjoyed it, like it was fun."

His voice was filled with disgust.

"They had claws too. That's how they hurt us. Tore at our flesh. We finally drove them out, but we lost a lot of people. Some of Fairmont's soldiers came the next day for a routine check. They said they would tell Kenna. Guess that's why you're here."

He sighed and closed his eyes. He put a hand to his forehead, a headache beginning to throb at his temples.

"Thank you for your time," said Michael, standing. "We will investigate this matter further."

The man stood and shook hands with the Archangels. "Please tell Kenna we said thanks for all she does for us."

Michael and Gabriel assured the man they would. They stepped off the porch and unfurled their wings, taking to the sky.

* * *

Kenna and Bree were up the next morning for a pre-dawn workout. Jonathan and Dedrick remained on guard with Mayor Bell. The women found the campus recreation center easily, the large building standing out. They saw a few people, but no one bothered them. They found an empty room and pulled blue mats stacked along the walls onto the floor.

Kenna ducked Bree's right hook. Bree kept coming, using the momentum to plow into her. She wrapped her right arm around Kenna's neck and threw two quick left jabs into her side, followed up by her left knee. Kenna collapsed to the ground.

"Well done. Excellent execution," she gasped.

Bree helped her to her feet.

"Okay. Let's work on blocking that move."

They were setting up to go again when four of Helena's soldiers, all males, walked in. One of them whistled.

"Girls shouldn't fight," the whistling man said. "But if you need to burn some calories, I think we can help you with that."

His eyes roamed their bodies, taking in their exposed skin. Kenna and Bree were wearing their brown pants and boots, but not their shirts. They had opted for sports bras instead.

"Helena's women fight," Kenna said.

"They are the exception."

The man hummed in approval at what he saw. The men moved closer, the one who had spoken leading the way. Bree folded her arms across her voluptuous chest. When they were three feet away, Kenna took a step forward, placing herself between them and Bree.

"Allow me to make this abundantly clear," Kenna said, her voice low and dangerous. "If any of my people are harassed in any way, I will deal with the perpetrator swiftly and effectively, without mercy." She levelled a glare at them.

One of the men stumbled back while unease flickered across the faces of two more. The man who had spoken smiled, but it didn't reach his cold calculating eyes. He moved forward and leaned in until he was brushing against Kenna.

"I'll keep that in mind," he purred at her. He spun around and left the room, the other three men trailing close behind.

"Pig," Kenna muttered. "Come on. Let's get back to work," she said to Bree, waving her back to the practice mats.

Several hours later, in the early afternoon, Kenna was walking to Mayor Bell's room to start her shift guarding when Michael found her.

"My brother and I want a word with you."

He left the way he came, expecting her to follow. She rolled her eyes at his abrupt manner. She did not follow immediately, instead continuing to Mayor Bell's room. Five minutes later, she found the Archangels waiting for her in a meeting room on the first floor of guest lodging.

"We've been waiting," Michael said accusingly as soon as Kenna entered the room. He stood in the center, arms crossed. Sunlight poured through the windows behind him, casting his features in shadow.

"I'm supposed to be on guard. I needed to alert the others I would be absent."

Michael pointed to a table. "Sit."

Gabriel was already sitting at one end, fingers tapping impatiently. He pulled out a chair beside him, indicating that was where Kenna should sit. Michael sat across from her. He and Gabriel could see most of the room, while Kenna was forced to face the wall. It went against every soldier instinct, to have her back to the room, but she didn't let her discomfort show.

"We went to the village you said was attacked," said Michael.

"What did you find?" she asked, feigning polite curiosity. She already knew the answer.

"The account we were provided with is consistent with a Nephilim attack."

Kenna gazed at him, urging him to voice the unspoken question. Instead, Gabriel cut in.

"Why did you bother telling us? Are Fairmont's soldiers incapable of defending themselves?"

Kenna would not be roused by the jibe. "They are. However, the Nephilim are not only a threat to humans. They are also a threat to your kind."

"We must inform Queen Arika and send word to Vega. This situation requires everyone's attention," Michael said. He hurried from the room.

Kenna tilted her chair back, the front legs leaving the floor. "You know, your brother should really consider getting that stick removed from his butt."

Gabriel pushed her chair all the way back, sending her sprawling to the floor. He walked toward the door, stepping over her. He paused before leaving and looked over his shoulder. "Yeah, he should," he said quietly, a slight smile playing across his lips.

Kenna snorted as she watched him leave. At least one of them had a sense of humor. A few minutes later, Kenna was back in Mayor Bell's room with him, Bree, Johnathan, and Dedrick. She had just finished telling them about her discussion with the Archangels.

"You did not actually say that, did you?" Johnathan spluttered. He used his foot to nudge away Dedrick, who was rolling around on the floor, howling with laughter.

Kenna grinned. "Sure did."

Mayor Bell sighed. "I know you're a great warrior and have beaten higher angels, but do you have to antagonize them? Could you maybe try not being suicidal?"

Kenna threw a pillow at him. "Oh Charles, you never let me have any fun," she sighed dramatically.

"Fun!" Dedrick yelled.

He jumped to his feet, grabbed the pillow, and threw it back at Kenna. She smiled wickedly and dived at him. They fell to the floor. Kenna pinned him and tickled his ribs while Jonathan and Bree piled on top of them. Laughter and limbs entangled until they were a yowling mass.

Mayor Bell shook his head. "And to think, I trust you to protect me."

* * *

The stone room was silent, save for Alex's steady breathing. He was asleep again. His moments of lucidity were few and short, the stretches in between long. Physically, he was fine, but Lucifer's presence in his mind still left him exhausted. He drifted between Lucifer's visions and his own dreams without pause, the images blending together until they were nearly seamless. The only hint he had that he was moving from vision to dream were the brief seconds of intense and absolute terror. But, he was never conscious enough to make the distinction.

Noma hadn't spoken to Alex since the second time he had woken up. She obeyed Lucifer's orders and remained the aloof guard. She couldn't afford to have him send her away, or kill her. Noma shifted her weight and stretched her arms over her head, trying to loosen the tight muscles in her back and shoulders. She had been standing guard without rest or sustenance for nearly two days. Her body protested, but no complaint would pass her lips. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. She settled back into her stance with back straight and shoulders back, eyes sharp, and feet firmly planted, and immovable force. Only another higher angel would be able to knock her down. Behind her, the water lapped against the stone tub.

"Noma, come here for a moment."

It wasn't an order, but she obeyed anyway. She cautiously sat on the edge of the tub. She grimaced at Lucifer's condition.

"Do not pity me, little one. My body may be frail, but my will is as strong as ever."

Noma closed her eyes, letting the rich tones of his baritone voice fill her. He wasn't actually speaking, rather projecting his thoughts to her.

"Noma, what do you see in him? Why did you protect him for so long?"

Lucifer sounded genuinely curious. Noma opened her eyes. She stared at the wall, lost in thought for several minutes. Lucifer waited patiently.

"I almost killed him," she began quietly. "But then I felt his presence, Father's. I knew Alex had to live. Although, now I suspect it is so he may die at the right time," she finished bitterly.

Noma rolled her shoulders. She felt tense again. Being underground didn't help. It was stifling, crushing. Her soul ached for the open sky.

"How do you do it?" she asked suddenly. "How can you stand being trapped here?"

Lucifer quickly picked up on her emotions. "I stand it because I must," he said simply.

Noma dropped her head. "I wanted to die," she whispered. "The thought of never flying again, I could hardly stand it."

"Is that why you betrayed them? Is that why you are here?"

Noma jerked her head up. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but her voice was strong. "I am here because I believe in the future."

"Good. You are helping to herald in a new era, one in which humans and angels shall coexist and the best in all of us is sought."

He sounded so confident that Noma believed he really could do it. Lucifer continued speaking, his voice softening.

"But for now, little one, have some fun. Go above ground and soar among the clouds. Do so for both of us. None should have to suffer as we have. Let your wings carry you high and the wind caress your feathers."

Noma reached down into the water to gently brush her fingers against Lucifer's. As she left, she cast a glance at Alex. She had almost lost it all because of him. Everything was changing, but she was sure of her decision. She couldn't, no she wouldn't, back out now. Noma climbed the steep stairs and paused in the church, taking a moment to look around. How odd that a place to worship her father now housed her brother. It made her stomach roll. She shuddered and swiftly left.

Once outside, she gulped in air. She needed to forget. She needed freedom. She spread her wings and forced them down, powering herself toward the sky. She flew high, her head dizzy from lack of oxygen, and then she flew higher. After a few minutes, her body adjusted. She drifted above the clouds, letting the wind carry her. Up there, nothing mattered. It was no wonder humans had found a way to fly. The freedom of it was intoxicating. Noma used to take it for granted. Sacrificing her wings had been worse than if she had lost her life. When she tore them out, her only thought was to save Alex. It wasn't until she heard Gabriel screaming her name did she realize the extent of her sacrifice. For a microsecond, she wondered why he sounded so upset. Losing her wings would hurt, but it wasn't life-threatening. Then, it all snapped into place. Even though she had betrayed him to join Michael, he still cared for her and was upset because he knew that without wings, Noma would never return home. The stark realization nearly dissolved her resolve. But then she thought about the rest of the angels. Without Father, there was no home. Without Alex, there was no Father. She had to do this. Her family needed her to be strong. She had pushed through the pain and had saved Alex.

Noma scolded herself. Now wasn't the time to think of such things. She folded her new white wings against her back and tilted toward the ground. She zoomed down through the clouds, laughing with more joy than she had since all this mess had started. She spotted a small graveyard and saw a rectangular patch of dirt under which Michael had been buried. She shuddered, remembering what Michael had told her he had done. She opened her wings enough to redirect herself to the graveyard. She landed beside Michael's empty grave. Noma stood there for several minutes, thinking about how much the angels had lost, especially the twin brothers. She hoped they would one day forgive her.

"Thinking about your demise?"

Noma spun around. She had been so deep in thought, she hadn't heard the Prophet approach.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"You are quite the enigma," the Prophet said, studying her. "First you protect the Chosen One, and now you have brought him to die."

"I believe in the future he will bring," she said defiantly.

"Oh, I don't doubt that." The Prophet turned and began to leave. After a few steps, he stopped. Without looking back, he said, "I will figure you out, Noma. Don't you doubt that."

* * *

 **What do you think of chapter 4? I hope you are finding the story interesting so far. Please review! Thanks!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Fair warning, this chapter gets a bit creepy at the end.**

* * *

"The Game"

Mayor Bell rubbed his hands together and exhaled with a cloudy puff. Even though it was nearly spring, a late snow storm had blown through the night before, leaving Helena covered in a soft blanket of white. Kenna walked beside him, eyes alert as she continuously scanned their surroundings for danger.

"You can relax, Kenna. I don't think we'll be attacked inside the city."

"You never know," she said seriously. "Any of the city's women could decide to jump your bones. I might have to fend them off."

Mayor Bell elbowed her. "I give you permission to stand aside and let me be jumped."

She giggled as they walked around the corner and came into view of the building they had met Queen Arika in the day before. There was a crowd by the doors. Some were guards on duty, but most were spectators craning their necks in every direction to catch sight of whatever they were there for. Kenna tugged lightly on Mayor Bell's sleeve. He drew in closer to her. She positioned herself just in front of him and they maintained physical contact. Even though they had been joking about being jumped by women, Kenna took her job seriously and would make sure no one harmed Mayor Bell. Suddenly, the crowd became louder and heads swiveled to whatever had caught their attention.

Kenna chuckled. "I think you have some competition."

Michael and Gabriel had just come into view and every woman in the crowd was enamored. Michael remained impassive as they moved through the throng of people, whereas Gabriel was flashing a roguish grin at each lady, sending them into a frenzy. The tiniest flicker of annoyance crossed Michael's face. Kenna pulled Mayor Bell forward and pushed him behind Michael, using the Archangel's icy demeanor as a shield.

"I see you got the invitation," Michael said once they were safely inside.

"More like a summons," Kenna huffed. "We should hurry. Best not to keep the Queen waiting," she said in her loftiest voice.

Michael led them to the conference room, trying really hard not to smile at Kenna's comment. The room was empty when they entered. Michael wasn't surprised. After having been entrenched in Vega's politics for years, he knew better than to expect a politician to be on time, General Riesen being the exception. He was always cognizant of the value of another's time. Michael held back a sigh as he took a seat, resigning himself to a long morning. Gabriel sat across from him, tilting his head toward Kenna and Mayor Bell, who were having a heated discussion. Michael heard enough to get a gist of the conversation.

"She is right, Mayor Bell. Sitting at the end of the table will make it easier for you to get up quickly if we are attacked, which will make it easier for her to protect you."

Mayor Bell grumbled before falling into the chair Kenna was pointing at. Kenna smiled victoriously and mouthed "thank you" to Michael. He dipped his head in response. Kenna positioned herself behind and to the right of the Mayor. She was still close enough to grab him should she need to. She clasped her hands behind her back and stood straight, settling into her guarding stance. Just then, the door opened and Queen Arika strolled in, seemingly ignorant to the fact that she was now five minutes late to a meeting she had scheduled. She took her time walking to her seat and carefully smoothed out the wrinkles in her form-fitting red dress before sitting.

"Michael, you said yesterday you have learned about a potential threat to Helena. Please, elaborate."

Michael took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Long ago, before the rise of modern civilization, it was discovered that angels and humans were compatible. We could reproduce. These children were called Nephilim. Our elder brother was the first to learn of this. His daughter was incredible. She had the poise and longevity of an angel and the insatiable curiosity of a human."

Michael smiled fondly. "We were all enraptured by her, doting on her every chance we had. We used to argue over who was her favorite uncle. Do you remember that?" he asked, meeting his twin's gaze.

"I do," Gabriel said. "It was wonderful to see our family grow, and soon other angels were having children. By the time we realized the truth, there were over three-hundred angel-human children." Gabriel's features grew hard.

"What do you mean, 'the truth'?" asked Queen Arika.

"Our offspring were monsters," said Gabriel.

Michael continued the story. "There was a darkness in them they couldn't escape. Lucifer's daughter kept it hidden from us for many years, but eventually, her bloodthirsty nature won out. It was devastating. We had loved her and nurtured her, given her our hearts. She gathered the others like her and led a campaign of violence that left the land bathed in blood. Father ordered us to kill them. It was the hardest mission we ever did," he finished sadly.

"What does that have to do with the present situation?" Queen Arika said sharply.

"Everything," Kenna replied. "The Nephilim are back. Either there are angels having children despite the risks, or they weren't all wiped out. We need to prepare."

Queen Arika glared at the guard, not liking the other woman's tone. "I'll decide what my people do, if you don't mind."

"I believe what my companion means is that she and my other guards have experience fighting Nephilim and they are willing to share what they know, if you so wish it," Mayor Bell said soothingly.

"Yes, precisely," Kenna said, the tension slowly leaving her body.

"I can assist as well," Michael said.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow questioningly, but didn't say anything.

"I'll discuss it with my Head of Security. Mayor Bell, thank you for your time."

It was a clear dismissal. Mayor Bell left the table, brow furrowed as he contemplated the implications of a Nephilim uprising. Kenna, as always, followed close behind. As she pulled the door shut behind them, she heard Michael and the Queen discussing communication with Vega. Kenna and Mayor Bell walked silently to the cafeteria to get breakfast. It wasn't until they were nearly finished eating did either speak.

"What are you thinking about?" Kenna asked.

"If the Nephilim really are coming back, how will we protect everyone? Already some of the villages under our protection have been attacked."

"That won't happen again," Kenna said fiercely. "We didn't know before. Now we do. We've already increased our rounds. I'll finalize a plan when we get back to Fairmont."

"Our soldiers can only spread themselves so far."

"I know. We're testing a new group soon. That will help our numbers some."

"They're inexperienced. We can't put them on the front lines."

Kenna sighed. "Charles, I know that. I won't put them in a dangerous situation if I can help it. I'll try to keep them in the city."

She only used his first name if she was joking or upset. Knowing that, Mayor Bell let the topic drop. Kenna walked him back to his room where Dedrick was waiting to take over guard duty. After ensuring all was well, Kenna went outside, walking around the campus aimlessly. The responsibility of protecting so many people weighed heavily on her shoulders. She gave them a roll, trying to relax. It was a wasted effort. Her job didn't allow for any semblance of relaxation. Even the previous night, when she had been play-fighting with the other guards, she was hyper-aware of everything going on. It was frustrating and tiring, always being focused and in control, not just of the situation around her, but also of herself. Sometimes it made her reckless, though she would never let her recklessness put anyone in danger. She could feel it now. It bubbled up inside of her, desperate for an outlet. Every day, she struggled to keep a lid on her impulsiveness. But some days, it just couldn't be quieted. Lucky for her, the Archangel with a sense of humor was leaving a nearby building, alone and unsuspecting.

It took Gabriel longer than it should have to figure out what had happened. He had left the building with his head down in silent contemplation, and had been caught completely unawares by the attack. Gabriel stared at the remnants of snow stuck to his shirt. When he looked up, thoroughly confused, he saw Kenna standing several yards away, tossing another snowball between her hands. He kept watching her, still confused. She didn't move, instead letting him decide what would happen next. Slowly, it dawned on him. She wanted to play. It had been so long since he had played. He had almost forgotten how. Faster than a human could track, he ran at her, unfurling his wings as he did so. He plowed into her and knocked her down, pinning her beneath him. He used his wings to loosen the snow around them and piled it on top of her. He jumped back just as fast. Kenna spluttered underneath the snow. She freed herself enough to crouch, shaking her head to dispel any clinging to her hair. She grabbed a clump in each hand and tossed them at Gabriel, which he deftly dodged. He wasted no time scooping more snow and taking to the sky so that he could drop the cold wet bombs on her.

"Hey, that's not fair," she hollered.

"All is fair in love and war, baby," he called.

Kenna rolled her eyes and ran for cover. Gabriel drifted in lazy circles above the awning.

"You can't hide forever."

He dived and spun under the awning. Kenna was impressed he could dump the snow on her, as fast as he was moving. However, she was expecting him and was prepared. Just before he disappeared above the awning, she threw her snowball, hitting him in the butt. He landed, utter shock on his face. Kenna clutched her side, laughing so hard tears streamed down her cheeks. She leaned heavily on a pole so she wouldn't fall over.

"Are you having a snowball fight?"

A group of kids stood nearby, watching. Kenna gulped in air, trying to stem her laughing long enough to answer.

"Would you like to join us?" she asked.

They beamed at the adults, nodding enthusiastically.

"I wanna be on his team," one of them yelled.

A little girl, maybe seven years old, ran up to Gabriel. He looked mildly surprised, but crouched down to her level and offered her a high five.

"Alright," Kenna said, clapping her hands together. "Pick a team."

Naturally, most of the children wanted to be on Gabriel's team. Kenna didn't mention the uneven numbers. She was glad actually. The children were young, untainted by their parents' perceptions. It would be good for them to see an angel as a friend, rather than an enemy. Even better, Gabriel seemed pleased. He was even letting them touch his feathers. His eyes were alight with happy amusement. Kenna's heart fluttered in her chest. Damn angels, too beautiful for their own good.

The two teams took up positions on either end of a large open space dotted by a handful of trees and a defunct water feature. After about ten minutes, Kenna pulled a couple of her teammates aside and whispered instructions. They separated and she walked slowly to Gabriel. She moved lithely, like a lioness stalking her prey. Gabriel knew exactly what she was doing, but he would play along and let them have their fun. She pounced and her kids, who had been sneaking up behind him, threw their snowballs. He fell to the ground, groaning in mock defeat. Kenna snickered. He looked up at her, winking just before he grabbed her wrists.

"Get her," he yelled.

All the kids, even her team, converged on them and she was promptly hit with several snowballs. The children shrieked happily and went back to playing with each other.

"That was sneaky," she said, plopping down beside Gabriel.

"You're the one who had your team sneak attack me."

Kenna laughed. "You could have avoided it. You let them get you."

"Surely not."

Kenna smiled and bumped him with her shoulder. They sat quietly for a moment, watching the children play.

"Do you know where Michael is?" she asked.

"Of course."

He said it like it was obvious. Kenna looked at him questioningly.

"We are bonded. I always know where he is, as he does I," Gabriel explained. "Right now he is still meeting with Queen Arika, though he will be leaving soon."

"So does this bond prevent you from, oh say, dumping a pile of snow on him?"

Gabriel answered her sly smile with his own. He jumped to his feet and scooped her up in his arms, unfurling his wings once again. He had retracted them while playing so that he wouldn't accidentally hurt anyone. He flew them to the building, conveniently located across from the field. They could keep an eye on the children while waiting for Michael. Gabriel landed gently on the roof and put Kenna down. He kept ahold of her until he was sure she wouldn't slip. They spent the next couple of minutes gathering the snow on the roof into a big pile right above the doors. Gabriel waved Kenna over and she hurried to his side, holding her breath in anticipation. Beneath them, the doors opened and Michael stepped out, face turned up to the sun. The day was warming quickly. Gabriel used a wing to heft the snowy load over the edge and right onto his brother.

Michael brushed off the snow. He knew immediately from the roaring laughter above that it was Gabriel's doing. A tinkling laughter, like wind chimes dancing in a summer's breeze, weaved with his. Michael tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for Gabriel to glide down to him. Kenna slid from the roof. It was a multi-story building, but the front entrance jutted out, so she was only dropping one floor. She tried, unsuccessfully, to school her face into something apologetic. Gabriel had no such reservations. He did stay out of Michael's reach though, fairly certain his brother would try to hit him. The bruise Michael had given him the day the Fairmont delegation arrived had only just faded away. Michael glowered at his twin brother and the fair-skinned, dark-haired beauty beside him. They only laughed harder. Michael took a threatening step toward Kenna. She darted behind Gabriel, peeking around him.

"Oh no. This was your idea. I'm not protecting you." Gabriel pulled her back around.

"Come play with us, Michael. You can be on my team."

She was so sincere, Michael couldn't stay mad. And anyway, any chance to beat his brother in the name of fun was a chance worth taking. He slammed into Gabriel, knocking him back several feet, and ran off. He grabbed Kenna's hand as he passed her, dragging her with him. The ensuing snowball fight was much more intense than earlier. It only took a couple minutes for Michael and Gabriel to focus more on each other than the rest of the players. Kenna kept the kids occupied while the winged big kids roughhoused.

Michael was pleasantly surprised he and Gabriel were getting along so well. Father's disappearance had driven a wedge between them. Michael remembered acutely the look on Gabriel's face when he had left him and Noma in that bar. It still haunted him. They had argued before, but this was a fundamental difference. It would alter their relationship permanently. When Michael had walked away, something inside him broke. His connection to Gabriel, always a strong comforting presence, had left. It did come back, but dimmer than before. It had shaken Michael to his core. Now, it was like nothing had happened. Over the past few days, their bond had grown stronger, returning to what it once was. There was, however, still an undercurrent of doubt humming between them. Michael didn't have time to explore it though, too busy dodging the rapid fire snowballs flying toward his face. Out of a dozen, only one hit him, exploding against his shoulder. He was going to have to punish his brother for that. Oh, how perfect. Poor Gabriel was standing under a tree, bare branches leaden with snow. One powerful gust from Michael's wings sent the snow cascading on top of Gabriel. Michael walked over, chortling. He sat beside the lump and dug out his brother.

"We should do this more often. I like beating you."

Gabriel growled. It only made Michael happier, exactly as Gabriel knew it would. They were quiet for a moment. Then, Gabriel asked something that had been bothering him.

"Why did you tell Queen Arika you would help with training?"

"Helena's soldiers are ill-prepared to face off against the Nephilim. We can't leave them defenseless."

Gabriel sighed. "Michael," he said warningly.

Michael squeezed his eyes shut. He should have known Gabriel wouldn't believe that. They never could lie to each other.

"I don't know what else to do. We have no leads. He is lost to us." Michael's voice broke. He fell back and stared up through the branches at the clear sky.

"We could call for our siblings. It would be faster than searching for them."

"Yes, but it is too dangerous. Not all of them believe in him as I do. I am surprised you didn't think of calling them earlier."

"I did. However, it is unlike you to miss any option. I surmised you had already thought of it and had a reason for not pursuing it. Same with returning to Mallory."

"There are many prophets and many towns. I detected nothing spectacular about Mallory. If that town is important to him, we should have felt something. Did you?"

"No, nothing. I'll follow your lead brother. Whatever you decide, I'm with you."

Michael felt warmed by Gabriel's confidence in him. "I never did thank you for what you did in New Delphi."

"You don't have to, Michael," Gabriel said quietly. "I've been thinking a lot about our conversation. Ever since I lost…lost him, I've been angry at humanity, and at you."

"I know." Michael's voice was barely a whisper.

"Hush. Let me finish. I was angry at you. You could have tried harder. You could have caught him. But, recent events have made me realize my anger toward you was misplaced. I know you did everything you could. You would never have let me suffer if you could help it."

He lay down beside Michael. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have doubted you."

"Does this mean you believe in Alex?"

"I have always believed in him, just not in the same way you do. Whatever his path may be, I am sure it is not with our elder brother. Have faith, Michael. We will find him."

Michael let loose a breath he didn't know he was holding. The ache in his heart didn't leave, but it was easier to bear when his favorite person was with him, even if his favorite person did constantly annoy him. He began to sweep his arms and legs up and down, side to side.

Gabriel peered at him. "What are you doing?"

"Snow angel."

Gabriel laughed and made one too. They helped each other up and stood back to admire their work.

"Mine is better," said Gabriel.

Michael punched his arm. "No way."

* * *

David Whele could not believe the drivel he was hearing. Of all the preposterous things that had been suggested, this was the worst.

"You're asking for a popularity contest. No good will come of it."

"Now hold on, David. Let's think about this."

Whele stared aghast at General Riesen. Surely he didn't think this was a good idea. Whele directed his stare at the other two men. Dan and Sgt. Mack had been serving as their guards for the past several days. He was beginning to think accepting their help was a bad idea.

"You can't be serious. An election? The people don't know what they want. We'll only be causing more strife."

"I think the people know exactly what they want," Dan said slowly. "We have all suffered in this new world. We all deserve a chance to make it better."

Whele rubbed his forehead. "Fine. We'll have a vote. It'll be no better than picking a name from a hat, but we'll do it."

Whele left the room, too annoyed to listen any more. They might have a vote, but he was going to make sure it was his name drawn from the hat.

General Riesen grimaced as he watched Whele's back disappear behind the door. He had expected more of a fight. Riesen and Whele had been friends, and enemies, for a long time. Whele's grudging acceptance could only mean one of two things: Whele had given up, or he was scheming. Either option had General Riesen worried.

Sgt. Mack sighed. "Next time, Dan, you're guarding Whele." He hurried after him.

"I think I prefer guarding you sir," Dan told the General.

General Riesen laughed. "How about at least through the election?"

"That would be great sir. Thank you. Do you plan on running?"

General Riesen templed his fingers, elbows resting on his armchair. "I think I might. Your employment will not be conditional on your support of me. You can vote for whomever you like. But before that happens, we need to organize this thing. Since it was your idea, how do you suggest we go about it?"

Dan sank into a chair. "We can't limit candidacy, unless within reason. Anyone should be able to put their name forth, given they are at least eighteen. The people need to see that they are all valuable."

"How do we keep people from voting more than once?"

"Do we have any operational surveillance equipment?"

General Riesen nodded.

"Great. We'll set up voting stations under electronic surveillance. Everyone will have to show their vote, but they won't have to show their faces. We'll use the recordings to verify the final count and we'll make them public. The transparency will give people confidence."

"This will be a lot of work."

"It's what Vega needs."

Whele had already begun executing his plan. He had to move fast, before Sgt. Mack could catch up to him. As soon as he was on the street, he approached the first person he saw. The young lady was struggling to stand, a hand gripping her injured leg. It looked like she had twisted her ankle. Whele offered her his arm. They walked together in silence for a minute before Whele spoke.

"What do you think about Vega holding an election?" he asked.

The young lady nodded. "I think it is a good idea. We could use a distraction."

"Yeah, I think so too."

Whele left her at a building she said she was staying at just as Sgt. Mack found him. He advised the young lady to wrap her ankle before he turned to his guard.

"What are you up too?" the Sgt. asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, lad. Nothing at all."

* * *

Alex stared down at the unmarked headstone. A silent tear slid down his face. After nearly a decade, it still hurt. Of all the people he saved, his Claire hadn't been one of them. She had died to protect him so that he could protect others. Her sacrifice had inspired him. After the war, Alex had vowed to honor her memory by living an honest, simple life and upholding the values she had held dear. He placed the flowers against the headstone and slowly walked away, the one silent tear now a torrent.

Alex trudged up the porch steps and entered his small but comfy home. He shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it on a coat rack. The savory smells coming from the kitchen made his mouth water. He ducked into the empty kitchen and grabbed a knife to cut a slice of freshly-backed pumpernickel bread. Noma walked in, saw what he was doing, and smacked his hand.

"Not before the others arrive," she scolded. "Now go clean up. They'll be here soon."

Alex chuckled and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, even as she shooed him out of the room. It had taken years for him to forgive her for her betrayal. Alex knew she hadn't been of sound mind at the time, but it still stung. They both needed the time to come to terms with it. When he learned she had forgone returning to Heaven, despite her Father's assurances that he would welcome her back, all the hurt Alex had been holding on to had fallen away. He had sought her out and they had rekindled their friendship, and later their love. Their relationship still needed work, but they made each other happy.

After a quick shower and shave, Alex helped set the table. They would be eating on the back patio, the open space more suitable for their guests. Noma set down a jug of lavender lemonade.

"They are on their way now."

She went back inside while Alex stared at the sky. He spotted the two tiny dots, growing larger every second. Alex shook his head. Those two were more inseparable now than ever. Though he was watching them approach, he was still startled when Michael landed in front of him and immediately pulled him into a hug, wings wrapping lightly around him. Michael retracted his wings and held Alex at arm's length, scrutinizing him.

"You look well, maybe a bit thin. Is Noma feeding you enough?"

"Are you kidding? The man eats half a cow every night," Noma joked.

The three men watched in amazement as she smoothly crossed the patchwork stone patio in stilettos while carrying a glass pan holding a pot roast. Noma carefully placed it on the table and turned to Michael and Gabriel.

"Okay boys. Are you going to give your sister a hug, or what?"

Alex watched the family reunion happily. He knew how much Noma missed being around other angels. This was the first visit any had made since the war ended. Seeing how ecstatic the three were, he hoped there would be more visits. Maybe he would try to convince Noma to visit them too, even though he hated to part from her for any length of time.

"So, are you staying out of trouble, up there, in the clouds?"

"Alex, how many times have I told you Heaven is not in the clouds? It is a separate realm."

Alex would never admit it out loud, but he did miss Michael's exasperated tone, almost as much as he missed annoying him.

"I noticed when you landed, your wings look different, fuller," he said.

"Now that we are home, we are truly complete," said Gabriel. Realizing what he had said, he threw an apologetic glance at Noma. She patted his arm reassuringly.

"Let's eat before the food goes cold," she said.

They sat around the table and helped themselves to Noma's excellent cooking. Alex eyed the green beans suspiciously. Noma knew he hated them, and since it was his birthday, he wasn't sure why they were on the table. One stern look from Michael and he understood. He sighed and put some on his plate. On his 14th birthday, he had been forced to eat half a can of green beans. Well, not really forced, but Michael, who had recently taken an interest in him, was standing beside him, telling him he couldn't leave the table until he ate every one of those vile green worm-like monstrosities some people called a vegetable. Alex had thrown quite a fit, despite it being the only food available that night, and now it looked like Michael was getting back at him. Darn Archangel, never forgetting a thing. He must have persuaded Noma to conspire against him. He glared at Michael as he ate them, earning a smirk in return.

After dinner, they retired to the living room. Noma curled up against Alex on the couch. Michael stood near the lit fireplace and Gabriel had made himself comfortable in the recliner.

"There is something we would like to discuss with you," Noma started. "We've been thinking about adopting and want to know if you would like to be the godparents."

Alex chewed on the inside of his cheek. Michael and Gabriel were staring at each other, silently communicating like only they could. Finally, they broke into smiles.

"Of course we would," Michael said.

He lent Gabriel a hand to pull him to his feet. When they turned fully to Alex and Noma, Alex let out a strangled cry. Their skin was taunt and translucent. Their eyes were sunken pits and their lips were pulled back in a mockery of a smile. They unfurled their wings. Alex watched, horrified, as their feathers melted into leathery skin stretched tight. The graceful curves of their wings became sharp angles. Their every step was menacing. Alex drew Noma closer.

"I'll distract. You run," he whispered.

He knew they could hear him, but there was nothing else to do. Noma took his chin in a vice-like grip and whipped his head around so that he was looking at her. He was lost in the deep dark pits of her eyes. Bile rose in his throat and he tried desperately to retreat. Fear froze him. She stroked his face with her other hand, deadly obsidian claws extending from her fingertips.

"No one is running," she said.

She raked her claws against his shoulder, tearing out flesh. She easily picked him up and threw him across the room. He crashed into the stone mantle, twisting his body to avoid the fire. Michael was already in front of him. Alex tried to move back, but he had nowhere to go. Michael leaned down and placed one clawed finger on Alex's cheek.

"My boy. My son. This is goodbye."

Michael thrust both clawed hands into Alex's chest and tore him apart.

Alex's last thought was, "He has the voice of an angel."

Alex woke up panting. A cold sweat coated his body. He pressed a hand to his chest. Chains dangled from his wrists. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Of all the terrible things he had seen and even done, his own imagination proved to be the worst. At least, he thought it was his imagination. Sometimes, he felt like there was an outside force pressing against him, forcing its way into his mind.

Now that he had calmed down some, he was able to focus on his surroundings. He was in a cave system. The air was damp and cool. An underground lake shimmered in the firelight of several candles and torches scattered about.

"How do you like the new digs, Alex? We'll be much more comfortable here."

Alex shivered against the hypnotic pull of Lucifer's voice. He felt himself getting pulled under. Images from his nightmare flashed through his mind, the details still fresh. He latched onto them, even though they frightened him. Slowly, he freed himself. That beautiful voice would not control him today.

Lucifer growled. "Knock him out."

Noma complied, hitting Alex hard enough to make him lose consciousness. She lowered him to the ground.

"He resists me."

Noma wanted to shrink back from Lucifer's tone. There was a faint trace of curiosity, but it was hardly discernable behind the malice. Instead, Noma sat at the edge of the lake and locked onto the floating figure of her brother.

"How can he?" she asked.

"I do not know. Our Father's power, albeit a small portion of it, resides in him. But do not worry, little one. He is much like Adam and Eve, and we know they were not infallible. However, we must expedite our plan. Perhaps what he needs is to see what Father has done as we see it. Soon, Alex Lannon will fulfill his purpose."

* * *

 **Okay, let me try to clear up a few things people have mentioned in the comments. In the first chapter, Michael's meditation is nothing more than him trying to remain calm. Sorry, no awesome mojo going on. Second, Michael doesn't seem as introverted in the first few chapters because he is so distraught over losing Alex that he is sorta a mess right now. That's also why Gabriel is being extra protective. He is trying to pull himself together though. (That's what I'm trying to do, so let me know if it seems like he is acting more like himself as the story continues.) Please keep reading and reviewing. Sometimes your comments help me flesh out the story more and find loopholes that I don't want there, and some I do. So keep it up! I love knowing what you think! Thanks!  
**

 **P s. I decided to let the Archangels have a little fun this chapter because they have been so stressed and have gone through a lot lately. Can you imagine behaving like an adult for all eternity? Ugh, sounds awful and boring. They should be able to goof around once in a while too. They've earned it.**


	6. Chapter 6

"Stories"

"Your moves are sloppy and predictable. Your form is atrocious."

Kenna walked up to the pair. "Here, try this. Lower your center of gravity. This will help you maintain your balance and stay on your feet if you are hit. Keep your body at an angle to your opponent, thus presenting a smaller target."

She demonstrated what she meant. After ensuring they understood, she stepped back to watch the two Helena soldiers spar. They picked up on her tips quickly. Kenna nodded in approval. She made her way around the room, stopping occasionally to help other groups. Johnathan and Bree were doing the same. After thirty minutes, Queen Arika came by to observe. The Archangels were with her. They had a quick discussion and once finished, Michael strode to the front of the room.

"Fall in," he commanded.

The soldiers scurried to stand before him, including Kenna, Bree, and Johnathan. Unlike the others, they weren't afraid to be at the front of the group. They stood in a line at attention, five feet separating them from each other. Helena's soldiers formed and amorphous mass behind them.

Michael's eyes tightened. "Form a block."

They formed lines behind the three Fairmont soldiers. The spacing was tight so that everyone would fit. Michael tapped the hilt of his swords. Gabriel moved from beside Queen Arika and began directing people to other spots. The rectangular block became a square. Just as everyone finished getting into position, a few stragglers hurried into the room. They filled out the last row. Gabriel went to Michael's side. Standing together, they were an imposing sight.

Michael addressed them. "We will begin by determining your skills. You will then be divided into groups based on your skill level. We will assess you by row. First row, step forward."

Kenna, Bree, and Johnathan stepped forward immediately. The other seven in their row were more hesitant.

"You will spar with each other until we order you to stop. Hand-to-hand combat only and pull your blows. Begin."

Kenna tagged the soldier from Helena beside her before the other woman knew what was happening. Bree and Johnathan teamed up to land some hits on three others. The rest of the group finally caught up and began to hit back. Helena's soldiers formed a circle, corralling the other three. They were completely missing the point of the exercise. Kenna decided to show them. She dropped to the ground and swept a leg out, aiming for Bree. As Bree fell, Kenna stood and kneed Johnathan in the side, followed by an uppercut. Bree was already up again. She grabbed Kenna around the waist, knocked her legs out from under her, and pushed her back into the other soldiers. The seven from Helena were shocked.

"There you go. This isn't a team fight. It's each person for themselves," Michael said. He and Gabriel were walking around the fight, watching closely.

Now that everyone understood, it became much harder to defend oneself. Bree was coming for Johnathan from behind and another was running for him in front. He ducked and used his shoulder to leverage the oncoming soldier over his back and hopefully into Bree. She was too good, jumping over the other soldier. She didn't reach Johnathan though, suddenly having to defend herself. A few feet away, Kenna dodged a punch from her opponent. The woman managed a glancing blow to Kenna's right arm. She hadn't been quite fast enough to land a solid hit before Kenna spun away. The woman kicked at her. Just before her foot connected, Kenna blocked it. She hit the other woman's extended leg on the inside, just below the knee. The woman's mouth opened in an "O" and she toppled to the ground.

"Stop."

The fighting ceased upon Michael's order.

"Return to your previous positions while we discuss."

Michael and Gabriel spoke quickly. Once agreed, Michael addressed the room again while Gabriel told each person in the front row what group they were in.

"There will be three groups with Group One being the most advanced. Decisions are final."

Gabriel finished with the first row and they filed off to the side. Kenna, Bree, Johnathan, and the one soldier from Helena who had hit Kenna were in Group One. Four were in Group Two and the rest in Group Three.

"Next row," called Michael.

It took three hours to go through each row and designate every soldier to a group. Group One was the smallest, followed by Group Three.

"Remember your groups. We will reconvene after lunch. You have one hour."

Michael dismissed them, but not everyone left. Kenna parted from Elaine, the one who had hit her, and jogged over to Michael.

"Do you have a moment?"

Michael nodded once.

"Will you please tell me what is really going on?"

"You already know."

"I'm not talking about the Nephilim, Michael. There is something more."

"Pray tell. What has led you to that conclusion?" Michael said coolly.

"For one, your brother is watching and looks like he is contemplating how he will kill me if he suspects I am annoying you. So, if you could look a bit more reassuring, I would appreciate that."

"Your point?"

"You two have been at odds for twenty plus years and now you're all chummy? No, I don't think so. Secondly, I know the Chosen One was in New Delphi. I do not think you would willingly leave Alex Lannon alone after that."

Michael grabbed her and leaned over her. Gabriel was quickly beside him.

"How do you know about Alex?" Michael hissed.

Kenna was unperturbed by Michael's anger. She studied the strong lines of his face. Thick lashes framed sorrowful blue eyes.

"I have spies in New Delphi. We knew about the Chosen One, but not anything to identify him by until recently."

"If that is true, then you should already know what has transpired," said Michael.

"Only a few provide reports and it is too dangerous to communicate frequently. The last report I received detailed your time in New Delphi. Now, I am willing to discuss this further, but I must insist you release me, Michael."

Michael slowly uncurled his fingers from around Kenna's arm. He hadn't realized how tightly he had gripped her. She would have bruises.

"Let's get a bite to eat and we can talk some more," she said.

They kept a watchful eye on her as they got lunch from the cafeteria. Instead of going for a table, she headed toward the door.

"It is better to have Mayor Bell present during the conversation."

They met up with him and Dedrick in an empty courtyard.

"We need to fill them in on how Fairmont operates."

It was a testament to Mayor Bell's trust in Kenna that he didn't question her. He nodded and faced the Archangels.

"Fairmont was founded two years ago after a battle between humans and eight-balls. Both sides decided we didn't want to fight anymore. Together, we built our city and live peacefully side-by-side."

"Just like New Delphi," sneered Gabriel.

Kenna jumped to her feet and stood before him, only a breath separating them. Her sapphire eyes were liquid fire.

"We are nothing like that vile place," she said vehemently.

Dedrick placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and pulled her back.

"As I was saying," Mayor Bell continued. "Humans and angels do live together in Fairmont. However, there are some prominent differences between our city and New Delphi. Everyone votes for the council positions. Kenna holds the only position that is assigned. We do not refer to the possessed as eight-balls, just angels. Two hold positions on the council. Ekatrina is the Superintendent of Education and Edgar is our Museum Curator. I, obviously, hold the Mayoral position and Tom is our City Secretary.

"I apologize," said Gabriel. "From what you have said, Fairmont is certainly different from New Delphi."

It was more Kenna's anger than Mayor Bell's explanation that swayed him.

"What about the spies? How do they fit in?"

"You told them about that?" Mayor Bell looked at Kenna in surprise.

"It was necessary. I feared Michael would rip my arm off if I did not provide a satisfactory answer." She gave Michael a teasing smile before answering Gabriel's questions.

"When we began building Fairmont, we had sought out an alliance with New Delphi, since it was rumored to be like what we were creating. Once we knew what was really going on there, we severed all ties, or at least Julian thinks we did."

Kenna glared at nothing in particular.

"We bribed and bargained until we convinced some eight-balls that they would be better off backing us. We've also sent soldiers in undercover. Our network has now expanded nearly across the country. Most of it is comprised of eight-balls we pay for their services."

Everyone sat quietly for several minutes. Michael spoke first, a sigh escaping his lips.

"Could your network be used to track someone?"

"Yes, I suppose it could," Kenna said cautiously.

Michael nodded, thinking. "What I am going to tell you is confidential. Do you understand?"

After a round of yeses, he continued. "Alex has been taken by the Son of Morning. He must be found."

Kenna, Dedrick, and Mayor Bell shared a worried look.

"We leave for Fairmont tomorrow. Come with us. It will make relaying any information faster," Kenna said.

After lunch, Kenna and the Archangels returned to training.

"Lead them through some stretches," Michael instructed Kenna as she returned to Group One.

"Why does she get to lead?" said a male voice from amid Group Two. When the man stepped forward, Kenna recognized him as the one who had confronted her and Bree previously.

"Perhaps a demonstration," she said, looking to Michael.

He agreed and waited while she retrieved her swords from against the wall where she had laid them after lunch. Having them dangle from her hips while performing solely hand-to-hand combat was cumbersome.

"Are you sure you want to use weapons?" he asked, voice low.

Kenna nodded. Loud enough for everyone to hear, she asked, "Until blood is drawn?"

Michael agreed and the demonstration began. They circled, feinting to test the other's defenses. Michael lunged, one blade extended before him as the other sang through the air. Kenna spun around him and threw an elbow into his back. Michael dropped to the ground and spun. He swung at her legs. She danced back and slammed a foot down on the sword. She brought hers down on Michael. With his other sword, he blocked her attack, released the sword she had pinned under her foot, and stood. It took more effort than Michael thought it would to throw her off. While Kenna righted herself, he picked up his other sword. She was on him again before he straightened. They exchanged a flurry of blows and the metallic ringing echoed around the room. Realizing she was far more skilled than a typical human, Michael stopped holding back. They spun and dodged, dipped and dived. Their blades whirled in flashes of silver. If there was any doubt about their skills, it was gone. Suddenly, Michael and Kenna parted, both breathing heavily. Michael lifted one of his swords triumphantly. A thin line of blood clung to the sharp edge. Kenna lifted one of her swords and smiled lightly. The red stood out in stark contrast against the bright gleaming metal. Michael sucked in a breath and glanced down at the sudden pang of pain. It faded quickly, but the cause was clear. There was a thin cut across his thigh.

"A tie," Michael acquiesced.

Kenna bowed slightly and wiped the blood away on her pants. She put her swords back in their sheaths and returned to her group. They had taken the initiative and stretched during the fight.

"Group One," Michael said. "Pay attention while we work with the other groups. Advanced techniques are pointless without a strong foundation."

Michael waved for Gabriel to work with Group Three while he took Group Two. Gabriel stalked off, displeased he had the weaker soldiers. The man from Group Two shrank back as Michael approached.

After half an hour, Michael finished with his group and instructed them to practice what he had gone over. He turned his attention to Group One. Their training was more intense. He demonstrated some moves and had them practice the moves slowly. He walked among them, correcting any mistakes. He stopped beside Kenna.

"Good," he said. "Try it faster."

She obliged, executing the series of moves flawlessly.

Michael grunted. "You have been trained well."

"I had an excellent teacher. You underestimated me earlier."

"It won't happen again."

"I expect not. Will you be attending Queen Arika's farewell ball this evening?"

"It is expected," Michael said.

"So cryptic," Kenna laughed. "I hope to see you there." She returned to training, movements even faster than before, and still perfect.

The large room was decorated in silver sheets and was awash in soft blue lights. Round tables provided seating along the edges. Michael sat glumly in the corner, sipping a dry red wine. He really hated parties. He should have stayed in his room and let his brother, the social butterfly, do the mingling. Michael snorted. Gabriel might be a butterfly, but his wings were drenched in blood. Michael snorted again. He was full of jokes tonight.

"Something funny?" Kenna asked. She slid into the seat beside him, carefully arranging her white and blue dress so it wouldn't snag on anything.

"It's nothing," Michael said. "Nice dress. Ancient Rome?"

"Yes. I'm quite fond of that era. This was a costume, so it needed a few adjustments, but I think it came out well."

"You look stunning."

"Thank you."

Michael stared across the room at Gabriel, who was twirling Queen Arika around the dancefloor. He mumbled incoherently.

Kenna tapped his wrist. "What troubles you?"

"Why?" Michael asked, gesturing to his brother and the flock of women watching him.

"Simple, my dear. Women like danger. Your brother is undeniably dangerous."

"And I am not?" Michael held his body taut. He may have phrased his words as a question, but he said them as a challenge.

"Oh Michael, you are extremely dangerous." She leaned closer to him and put a manicured hand on his forearm. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret about women. We like danger, but mystery is sexier. Put them together and, mmm, irresistible. You have plenty of both."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Only a little," Kenna said, laughing. "For someone who has been around since humanity's beginning, you sure don't know much about women."

Michael laughed with her. "Not even Father could understand the convoluted mind of a female."

A new song began to play from the speakers, a tango. Kenna stood and offered a hand to Michael.

"Care to show these women what they are missing? I assume you can dance."

Michael stood too and wrapped his hand around hers. No one noticed as they took to the dancefloor. They bowed to each other and began to move to the music on the start of the next phrase. The song weaved a tale of young love. Michael and Kenna danced joyously, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. Next, the song spoke of betrayal, but whose wasn't known. Their dance became aggressive. The harmony between them dissolved into anger. The music was punctuated by their sharp movements. Eyes turned their way. The Queen and Archangel duo was no longer the most interesting pair. Again the song changed, now telling of independence mixed with ardent desire. Kenna stalked away from Michael and he followed, catching her and pulling her back. She melted against him, only to be spun away as he now stalked off. They came together again. She wrapped a leg around him as he dipped her low. He pulled her back up, lips brushing against her collarbone. They ended the dance with a final spin. Applause erupted around them. Michael bowed and kissed her hand. Kenna curtsied. She winked and nodded toward a group of woman who were eyeing Michael with newfound appreciation.

"I don't think you'll be lonely tonight," she said, sliding past him.

Michael chortled. No, he wouldn't be lonely. He would probably have plenty of company to last the night.

* * *

Alex hunched against the cave wall and tipped his head back. He didn't want to listen to Lucifer's story, but since he was still chained up, he didn't have much choice. It was just the two of them. Noma was checking the perimeter.

"As you know, Alex, I am the first angel. I came into existence fully formed and aware. As I stood in the Heavenly realm and spread my wings for the first time, Father appeared. I felt no fear, only love. It washed over me, cleansing me of any lingering confusion. Father offered me his hand. We walked together in pleasant company. We did not speak, for I was overcome by the beauty around me. Heaven is much like this realm. It has mountains and seas, deserts and lush forests. But, it is more. Mountains stretch higher and waters flow bluer. The desert dunes shift of their own accord and oh, the forests. Prouder trees and more beautiful flowers you will never find. Even the wind is more, singing such sweet songs. Father told me he needed help. He had a grand plan and needed the support of his beloved son. I was overjoyed. I learned a great many things in, for an angel, a short time. Father taught me to create, and together we made the realm we now dwell in. He made the seas of water and I the seas of magma. He made the rabbit and I the fox. He made the mountains and I the valleys. He made the deserts and I the forests. Balance, Alex. It is the key to creation.

"As we constructed this realm, Father sensed my sadness. I loved Father dearly, but I yearned for the happiness I witnessed between the siblings of our creations. Father gifted me with two brothers and two sisters. And so the next four angels came to be: twins Michael and Gabriel, and twins Raphael and Uriel. Father said we five would be the strongest, the Archangels. We were each given a specific purpose. I was the Son of Morning, the Bringer of Life. Michael the Sword, a Keeper of Order. Gabriel the Heart, the Guardian of Passion. Raphael the Sage, the Seeker of Truth. And Uriel the Artist, the Muse of Expression. I taught them as Father had taught me.

"When the time came for Father to reveal his entire grand plan, we waited with bated breath. He opened a window between Heaven and Earth and we gazed upon a magnificent garden. Our realms were still intertwined back then. There, nestled among the blooms, were a man and a woman. You know them as Adam and Eve. They were perfect. But remember, Alex, there must always be balance. Humanity's antithesis was a being so foul, Father banished it to a realm of its own. It did not go peaceably. The being left a parting gift, torn from its flesh. A snake now roamed the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve had been instructed not to touch the Tree of Knowledge, lest great misfortune befall their kin. The Tree went undisturbed for many years. They did not know what they lacked, so they never sought it. This was not to last, for the snake, once a dumb creature, had partook of Knowledge's fruit, and was now quite cunning. He watched from the shadows. As the years drew on, he learned many things. Speech became an important asset, second only to his wits. One day, he spoke to Adam and Eve. This was the first they had heard from another. He used his sharp tongue to paint a future for them. It was vibrant and alluring. All they had to do was partake in a single fruit. Eve laughed as the snake wove through the threads of her strawberry waves.

 _"We cannot," Adam told the snake._

 _"Why is that?" the snake asked. "All the rest of this land is for your use."_

 _"We were told so."_

 _"By whom? Who has denied you?"_

" _Why, I don't know," Eve interjected. "We have always known to leave that Tree be. I suppose we told ourselves."_

" _Now isn't that silly? There is no need to deny yourselves."_

" _But what of our kin?" asked Adam._

" _I have tasted Knowledge's fruit and my kin are well. I would very much like for you to meet them, but they can only be seen by those who hold Knowledge."_

" _Oh yes! I do so very much would like to meet them," Eve said._

"Adam and Eve had only ever spoken the truth, and so did not know the lies that spilled forth from the forked tongue. And so, mankind fell."

Alex sat up straighter. This was not the story he knew. It was very similar, but the talk of balance was new to him.

"What happened next?" he asked.

Lucifer chuckled. He had Alex's attention. The Chosen One would know his story.

"Sin became the norm for Adam and Eve, and their children. Father thought about destroying them all, but every so often, there would be one so good, so pure, he would stay his hand. These were the Chosen Ones, and they were humanity's redemption, though never the same way twice. All angels, we had many siblings now, kept a watchful eye on the humans. We watched them grow and learn, although painfully slowly. Only Uriel could effect change among them. Father would instruct her to go to them and inspire. Her lilting voice sang the first song. Her talented hand drew the first picture. This happened rarely though. Father was content to let his children struggle. Many died, unable to defend themselves against a world they were thrust in. Imagine, Alex, not knowing how to survive. Imagine stumbling through the dark because only the great expanse above gives light. Imagine death from starvation because sustenance leaves on your approach. Imagine sickness rampant because you wish to comfort your loved ones, your family. This is what Father did to his children. They did not just struggle. They suffered. I could not stand it. I could do anything Father could. He had wanted an equal to trust in, yet still he commanded me like a child. I am ashamed to admit, I let him degrade me. I cowered under his foot. Still, I could not let humanity suffer, no matter Father's orders. Unable to bear it, I gifted them with tools and knowledge. Since then, humanity has learned how to use these tools, but is still learning how to benefit from them.

"Father did not appreciate my efforts. He did not see my actions as gifts, but rather curses. His wrath drove me away. There is a realm in which he does not interfere, the Land of the Dead. You call it Hell. Since the first human's death, I have maintained this realm. It is not all fire and brimstone. Like Heaven, it shares many similarities with your realm. The main differences are the sub-levels. All human souls go to the Land of the Dead, but which level you spend eternity in is dependent on behavior. This is the realm to which I fled. Father did not punish me immediately. He waited and watched, gauging how humankind used what I gave them. I spent many years alone, always wondering when my fate would descend. For the first time, I was truly alone. I did still have the ability to create, and eventually used it. Fate did come for me. Because Father refused to guide them, humanity was slow to use my gifts properly. Instead of loving them and helping them, Father would send his Sword to wipe them from Earth when a group had sinned too often. Then, Father turned to me. He blamed me for his failure. He failed to give the humans his love. He failed to teach them. He is the failure, and yet I am the one who has lost everything.

"I knew the moment they, my Archangel siblings, entered my realm. I sent away my creations, the only family I had left. I had to protect them. My most powerful was already on a mission of utmost importance. Gabriel came to me first. We had once been close, not like him and Michael, but still deeply bonded through our love. I think he meant to subdue me alone. He pleaded for me to repent. He said he would speak with Father, try to convince him to forgive me. Let me tell you, Alex, God is not merciful. Even as Gabriel spoke, Father's command came down. I saw Gabriel's face crumple. I saw the pain in his eyes. But, I also saw that he would obey. He would obey Father's orders, no matter how wrong they might be. That is not the power of love, but of fear.

"He attacked swiftly, but I was faster. I had never felt such agony as when I struck him and he fell at my feet. Michael, always vigilant, rushed me. He attacked while Uriel and Raphael pulled Gabriel away from the fight. He recovered quickly and they joined Michael. Survival drove me to defend myself. Love drove me to soften my blows. It was apparent though, they were not doing the same. The harder they fought, the less I could avoid hurting them. Our blades flashed and our wings snapped around us. Like the burning Sun, my fire raged hot and bright, racing across my body and dancing along the length of my sword. Fire promotes life, and so it was mine to command. But, fire can also destroy. My white flames kept my siblings from getting close. Such heat not even they could remain uninjured from. Much to my dismay, it did not deter them. Michael was first to brave my fire. His blow ripped through my right shoulder across to my left hip. My blood crimsoned his swords. Raphael attacked from behind. Her thin blade sliced from wing tip to wing tip. Uriel dashed close, drawing her sword across my thighs. Gabriel came last. I did not miss the tears glistening in his eyes. I also did not miss his sword as it rent a hole in my chest. My once brilliant fire dimmed and spluttered out. My blood slicked the floor. I slumped before them and still I did not repent. I had done nothing wrong. Michael kneeled beside me and spread a flame so hot it burned clear across my body. It was the Hellfire, a gift from Father when he put me in charge of the Land of the Dead. As the flames licked my body, the last thing I saw were my closest brothers and sisters, their bodies scorched and tattered. They did not look like angels. They looked like demons.

"That is my story, Alex. That is why we are here. Oddly enough, we have Michael to thank for that. He did what none other would. He showed me mercy and did not completely destroy me. That debt has since been paid. All I want, Alex, is to help humanity. All I want is for each human to have the opportunity to reach his or her full potential. Alex, help me. Heal me so that humanity can thrive. Fulfill the role of the Chosen One. Be humanity's redemption."

"What must I do?"

* * *

 **As always, feedback is appreciated! What do you think of Luc's story?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry I didn't get this up sooner. This chapter was stubborn.**

 **Warning: Some violence, lust, and cursing in this chapter. It's not excessive, but more than in previous chapters.**

* * *

"The Past Collides"

A hunched shadow slid along the moonlit hallway. Kenna shifted from her spot outside Mayor Bell's door. She drew a dagger from her boot and moved silently down the hallway. She stopped short.

"Bree?" she called softly.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you." The shadow shifted nervously.

"Bree, is something wrong?"

"No, no. I'm just tired. I'll see you in the morning, Guardian."

"Come here," Kenna said.

Bree materialized from the shadow. Her hair was mussed and her pale green dress hung askew from her shoulders. A bruise spread across her right cheek. Kenna brushed back Bree's golden hair and gently touched the bruise.

"Who did this?" Her voice was caught between being hard and breaking.

"Please, just let this one go," Bree said, pulling back from Kenna's touch.

Kenna didn't reach out for her again, though she yearned to comfort the other woman. Instead she said gently, "Tell me. You aren't just a soldier under my command. You are my friend, my family. Please."

Bree sighed and leaned against the wall. Over and over, she bunched and released the chiffon fabric of her dress. "It was those men, the ones who bothered us when we were training." She spoke low and cast her eyes to the floor.

"What did they do?"

"That man said everyone in Helena enjoys a good romp. All the women think he is the best and no one around here says no to a good lay. I said no. They tried to make me stay, but I got away."

"Did they touch you?" Kenna growled.

"I thought the bruise made that pretty obvious." Bree pointed to her purpling cheek.

"You know that is not what I mean."

Bree sighed again but met Kenna's eyes. "I think that one man would have. But no, it didn't get that far."

"Where?"

"Same building as the party. It had just wrapped up."

Kenna nodded curtly. Anger crept over her and adrenaline spiked her blood.

"Go on inside," she said, opening the door to Mayor Bell's room. "Johnathan is in there. Tell him I want a word."

Bree went in and a few seconds later, Johnathan joined Kenna in the hallway. She filled him in on what happened and asked him to take care of Bree. She would deal with those bastards.

When Johnathan reentered the room, Bree was leaning against a desk, silent tears streaming down her face. He wrapped an arm around her and let her lean her head on his shoulder. Mayor Bell woke and searched for the sound that had disturbed his sleep. Spotting the two soldiers, he jumped out of bed. He tried to ask what was going on, but stopped when Johnathan shook his head. Instead, Mayor Bell rubbed gentle circles along Bree's back and murmured soothing words. Her sniffling subsided and she looked at Mayor Bell with watery eyes.

"Kenna has gone after them. You know what she will do."

Mayor Bell nodded, eyes tightening. He did know. Anyone who hurt the people Kenna cared for would meet a violent end.

"We might not be able to reel her in," he said. "Johnathan, get the Archangels. Their rooms are further down the hall. We might need their help."

Johnathan dashed out of the room. He ran down the hall, trying to remember which doors he had seen the Archangels by earlier. Giggling and moaning caught his attention. He skidded to a halt and banged on the door. He didn't wait for a response. Johnathan hated to interrupt a good time, but this was an emergency. Kenna's anger was well-known in Fairmont and her skill as a warrior was only matched by the best of higher angels. She would demand justice through death and wouldn't stop until she got it.

Johnathan threw open the door and stepped inside. He groaned internally. Of course this had to be Gabriel's room. At least Michael would have, maybe, let him explain himself first. Now he would probably be sliced in two. However, Gabriel was in a good mood, understandable given the flock of beautiful women surrounding him. He sat up to peer at Johnathan.

"I'm not in the mood to share tonight. Find your own," he said. He purred in delight as the women pulled him back down on the bed, placing hungry kiss along his body.

Johnathan would not be deterred. "We need your help. Please."

He ran back to the hallway and opened the next door. Michael was in a similar situation as his brother, but he didn't bother to address Johnathan, except to snarl at him to go away.

Johnathan ignored him. "We need help. Please, hurry."

He ran back to Mayor Bell and Bree. They were standing in the hall, anxiously wringing their hands.

"I've sent Dedrick ahead. Hopefully he will find her before she finds them," said Mayor Bell.

Bree had given him a brief report of what had happened, though she left out the why. It wasn't hard to imagine. Even in a city of mostly women, someone so beautiful would not go unnoticed.

"Are they coming?" he asked Johnathan.

His question was answered when he glanced down the hallway and saw Michael and Gabriel. They wore twin expressions of displeasure.

"Why have you disturbed us?" Michael asked as he finished strapping on his swords and straightening his hastily thrown on clothes.

"Bree," Mayor Bell said, gesturing for her to lead them.

She took off at a jog. "Everyone in Fairmont is close. We look out for each other, protect each other. When Kenna found out what happened to me earlier, well, she won't allow it to happen again, not to anyone. She is our Guardian, and her need to protect knows no bounds. If she finds those men before we get to her, the three of us and Dedrick won't be able to stop her. They were warned. She will kill them."

Though they doubted Kenna was really that dangerous, Michael and Gabriel did share in the group's disgust. They could see from Bree's appearance that the men she spoke of had tried to force themselves on her. Their pace quickened.

Bree led the group into the building and along several corridors. She had slipped off her high heels when they entered so that the tapping of her shoes wouldn't alert anyone to their presence. She tightly gripped the knife Johnathan had given her. Just twelve yards away, a door was agar and crashes and cries echoed from it. Dedrick stumble backward out the door, eyes still trained on the chaos inside. Johnathan came to his side.

She is pissed. She is really pissed," Dedrick gasped. "She might have let them go if that one guy hadn't of said what he would do to Bree once he finished with her."

There had been five conscious men in the room. Now there were two. Kenna wasn't sure if the other three were alive, and in that moment, she didn't care. She rammed her fist into the face of the man in front of her and spun around to kick the one behind her. As he fell, she jumped on him and let loose a barrage of punches that sent his head snapping back against the floor. Somewhere deep inside her, the crunch of shattering bone pleased her. She heard the other man moving toward her. She delivered a last crushing blow to the man beneath her. Blood sprayed from the many gashes on his face. His nose was broken and he gasped for air, choking on his blood.

The other man grabbed Kenna and pulled her off. She was quickly on her feet. Fury rolled off her as they stared each other down. This was the man who had first spoken to her and Bree. This was the man who thought that just because most women enjoyed him, all should. He was one of those despicable humans who demanded they always get their way and would do awful things to ensure it. Bile rose in Kenna's throat. She tackled him. They fell to the floor and she fisted her hands in his so-called stylishly tousled hair. She slammed his head against the floor. Blood immediately pooled beneath them, but she did not stop. It was as though time froze. All she could see was his sneering face and cold eyes violating Bree.

Strong hands suddenly grabbed her and yanked her back while someone else pulled the man away. The man stood shakily and futilely tried to shove Michael away.

"You fucking bitch," he spat at Kenna. "I'm gonna teach you some respect."

A guttural roar ripped from Kenna's throat and she thrashed in Gabriel's grip, surprising him enough to break free. She lunged for the man, but Michael had already grabbed him by the neck and held him against a wall.

"Get her out of here," he yelled over his shoulder.

Gabriel had already grabbed Kenna again, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her against his chest so that she couldn't escape again. He dragged her from the room and out of the building. Mayor Bell and Bree followed.

Once outside, Kenna stopped straining. Gabriel released her but blocked the way back in. She breathed in the cool air. Bree walked over and hugged her.

"Thanks for looking out for me," she said in a choked whisper.

After Bree stepped back, Mayor Bell put a hand on Kenna's shoulder.

"Try to get some rest. We'll discuss this later." He nodded to the Archangel.

Gabriel put a guiding hand on her back and walked her to her room.

Kenna paced, studiously ignoring the formidable angel sitting on the edge of her bed. They shouldn't have stopped her. Those men would only hurt someone else, and maybe take things further. They would have with Bree if she wasn't such an able soldier. Kenna huffed through clenched teeth, fuming. She was heady from the rush of battle. Adrenaline still pounded through her veins, making her feel anxious. She caught sight of her reflection in the decorative mirror hanging on the beige wall and stopped abruptly. Behind her, Gabriel leaned forward, ready to grab her should she run. She stared at herself. Her eyes were livid and her cheeks flushed. Blood speckled her face and matted her chestnut hair. None of it was hers. She looked down at her hands. She could hardly see her skin through the smear of red. Trembles began to rock her body and tears gathered in her eyes. She collapsed to the floor. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth.

"I'm exactly what he wanted," she moaned.

"What who wanted?" asked Gabriel. He sat beside her, as close as he could without touching her.

"My father. He wanted a killer, a monster. That is what I am." She looked at her hands again.

Gabriel held back another second before his compassion overrode caution. He pulled her close. The tears spilled from her eyes and she buried her face against his chest, sobbing. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and stroked her hair.

"You are not a monster," he murmured.

Kenna clung to him desperately. She drew in shaky breaths. It had been a long time since she had lost control like that. She hated that part of her, the part that craved destruction. She thought she had buried it twenty-odd years ago. Now it was back and just as dangerously alluring as before. Kenna closed her eyes and let Gabriel's warm woodsy scent cocoon her. After a couple minutes, she regained her composure. She pulled away from him awkwardly.

"Um, sorry about that," she grimaced.

He smiled lightly. "Nothing to apologize for. Let's get you cleaned up."

He left her for a moment to turn on the shower in the adjoining bathroom. He came back into the main room and rummaged through her bag on the desk. He pulled out assorted clothing and put them on the bathroom counter. Kenna watched, amused.

"Huh," she said. "I kinda like this domesticated angel thing."

"Don't you dare tell anyone."

"Not even Michael?"

"Especially not Michael."

Gabriel shooed her into the bathroom. "I'll wait until you're finished." He pulled the door close before she could say anything.

Kenna stared at the bathroom door for a few seconds. What a weird night. First, she had danced with Michael, though that had only been to cheer him up. Then, she had lost her cool and probably ruined any chance of an alliance with Helena. Now Gabriel was waiting for her, intent on making sure she was okay. She could still smell him. She could still feel his warmth spreading through her. The sound of his voice was etched in her mind and each touch imprinted on her soul. Oh man, she had it bad, and that wasn't good.

She stripped and hopped in the shower. She averted her eyes from the swirling red water. Just before she got out, she turned the water to cold, hoping to shock some sense into herself. It helped for like ten seconds. She dressed quickly in her worn clothing. Being a soldier was hard on her wardrobe. She padded out of the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel as she walked.

"Took you long enough. You women take forever," complained Gabriel.

He was stretched out on the bed, arms crossed under his head. She probably should have stayed in the cold shower longer. Kenna snapped her towel at him.

"You didn't have to stick around, little angel."

"Oh sweetheart, there is nothing little about me."

Okay, she definitely should have stayed in the cold shower longer. She rolled her eyes and carefully avoided watching how he moved as he stood and stretched. He walked around her and gave her a gentle push toward the bed.

"Sleep, little warrior," he teased. "See you in the morning."

Three hours later, sunlight stabbed at Kenna's closed eyes.

"Come on. Time to get up. You said you wanted to leave by seven."

Kenna groaned.

"I brought you food."

She perked up and looked blearily at Mayor Bell. He laughed.

"I don't know how you stay so thin, the way you eat. Breakfast is on the desk. We'll meet you in the stables."

She devoured the two buttered rolls and double-checked that her bag was packed. She carried it over her shoulder. After licking her fingers clean of butter, she secured her swords and made for the stables. She was nearly there when Queen Arika joined her.

"I hear you had a busy night," the Queen said.

"I apologize for my brash behavior."

"I have been told they were warned. They are known for being pushy. Helena could use more women like you. We rarely have such vigor."

"I think it best we part ways for now. The world is not ready for you and I to work together."

Queen Arika chuckled. "No, I suppose not. We will just have to make do with an alliance."

They reached the stables. Kenna took the pistol Johnathan offered her and strapped it to her leg. She moved through the stable to her horse's stall. Gabriel was trying to put a saddle on the high-spirited black stallion while Michael leaned against the stall door, shaking with laughter. Kenna slipped in and rubbed the horse's nose, muttering soothingly.

"Galre'ad approves of very few," she told Gabriel.

She led Galre'ad through the stable and to the others, already astride their mounts.

"We must make a detour on our way to your city," said Michael, gesturing to himself and Gabriel.

Kenna gave them instructions to Fairmont, nestled between Granite Mount and Mount Stuart, just south-east of Seattle. She asked they not fly near the city so as to not frighten anyone.

After the Fairmont delegation departed, Gabriel turned to Michael.

"What detour?"

"You were right. We should examine Mallory closer. It is all we have to go on."

Michael unfurled his wings and took off. His troubles fell away, bound to the ground below. He soared high and stretched his ebony appendages as far as he could. Though his twin was a better flier, which irked Michael more than he cared to admit, he was still among the best. He sighed in contentment. Until he landed, he was free.

* * *

The town of Mallory was desolate. The protective fire had been extinguished. There was no need for it with the townspeople now gone. They circled twice above the church before landing.

"Take a look around. If you find anything odd, anything at all, call me," Michael said.

He roamed the dusty roads, pausing occasionally to examine inside various structures. When he reached the limits of the town, he stopped. Michael trailed his eyes along the wooden fence. Echoes of a gunshot rang through his head. Young Harper had died because she had been more afraid of him than she was of damning the town. Her death, though not by his hand, still scarred his heart. But maybe he should not blame himself. Secrets do not equate sin, though the line is thin. Michael eased. He would not allow himself to carry this burden. He had killed many humans, but Harper's death lay at the feet of the Son of Morning.

Michael turned and began to walk back to the church. He pondered what he would do if his elder brother was found. Lost in thought, he did not realize he was no longer walking toward the church. Instead, he stood outside the barn. He drew a shallow breath and entered. Memories assailed him. Her chin-length black hair tickled him. Her warm eyes were the key to unlocking the black walls of pain that encased his heart. Laurel's unwavering faith reminded him of why he had defended humanity upon Father's disappearance.

Michael let the memories swirl through his mind a moment longer. He sighed and locked them away. He would likely never see Laurel again, never feel her warm embrace again. It was best not to explore the feelings she evoked in him. She was safe, and that would do.

A few minutes later, Michael and Gabriel stood just beyond the church doors. Gabriel stretched out a hand and pushed them open. They slid in, arms brushing they were so close. They swept the building, searching every crevice.

Gabriel fell into a pew. "This is ridiculous. There is nothing here."

Michael grunted and paced in front of the altar. His foot caught the edge of a rug and he stumbled, arms pin-wheeling to regain his balance. Gabriel doubled over in laughter. Michael smacked the back of his head.

"Come on, Michael. It was funny. Lighten up."

"It was not funny," he growled.

He knelt beside the rug to fix the edge that had flipped over. His hand hovered over the fabric, his attention caught by a thin crack.

"Do you see this?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Gabriel knelt beside him and ran a finger over the crack. He pulled the rug away to reveal a trapdoor. It was embedded seamlessly into floor, making it impossible to locate unless seen. There was not even a change in sound from floor to door.

"You were right over this and you didn't notice?" Michael said accusingly.

Michael's anger pierced Gabriel, but he calmed himself before answering.

"No, much like you did not notice it while you were here. Did you not say this is the spot upon which you drove a dagger in your heart, and mine?"

Michael put a hand on Gabriel's arm. "I am sorry, brother. It is not you I am angry with. I should have caught this sooner."

"We both should have. What will we do? If he is down there…."

"Let's just worry about getting Alex to safety."

Michael lifted the trapdoor. Steeling himself, he descended. There was no light in the chamber. Some filtered through the trapdoor above, but not enough for a human to see by. The dark did not deter Michael. His eyesight was just fine. He scanned the underground room, already aware of the truth. He trailed his fingers along the wall, feeling the constellation etched into the stone. The Morning Star was etched repeatedly into the walls. The Morning Star had been here, of that Michael was sure. A mess of blankets and pillows were piled beneath chains secured to a wall. The Chosen One had been here too.

Gabriel receded to the far end of the room, leaving Michael to come to terms with the situation on his own. He would be there to comfort his brother as soon as Michael was ready. For the moment, he needed space. A faint white object brought Gabriel to the edge of the stone tub, still full of water. On the ledge was a roll of parchment tied with a red silk ribbon. Leaning against the roll was a single white feather. Gabriel carefully removed the ribbon and unrolled the parchment. The ink was written with quill in Noma's handwriting.

 _Little brothers,_

 _I realize you must be quite frustrated with me. I do not thwart your attempts to bring Father back out of spite, but rather out of an earnest desire to show you there is another way. The Chosen One lives, for now. Soon he will fulfill his purpose. Until then, we have relocated. Our dear Noma feared you might soon find us._

 _Father may not care for humanity, but I do. With the Chosen One, I will ensure humankind has a chance to thrive. Join me, brothers. If you do not, I will be unable to spare you._

 _Truly yours,_

 _Lucifer_

Michael came up behind Gabriel. He leaned around him to pick up the white feather and twirled it between his fingers.

"What is that?" Michael asked, nodding toward the parchment.

Gabriel handed it to him. Michael's scowl deepened as he read the letter.

"We are running out of time." Michael held up the feather and studied it with deep sadness.

* * *

It had been a fortnight and three days since the Fairmont delegation had left Helena. Their strong horses had carried them far quickly. They were now a week out from Fairmont. Kenna called them to a halt. It was early afternoon. They would rest now and continue on once night fell. This was easier for the guards. They were less likely to be attacked during the day and more likely to stay awake during their shifts.

They had been resting for three and a half hours when Dedrick woke up Kenna.

"Hey, sorry to wake you." He sounded worried, but not like there was an emergency.

"It's fine. What do you need?"

"It's probably nothing, just a feeling I can't shake."

"Trust your instincts. Better to be cautious than foolhardy."

Dedrick pulled Kenna to her feet. He scanned the horizon while she shook off the last vestiges of sleep.

"It's so quiet," he said.

Kenna cocked her head to the side, listening. "Yeah, it is."

The shadow of a bird rippled across the ground, swiftly approaching them. Except, it was too large for a bird. Kenna pulled Dedrick down and shouted for the others to wake. She spun around and drew her swords. Dedrick covered her six. He remembered his training on winged opponents and kept his eyes trained on the ground for any shadows. Looking to the sky could interfere with his vision and ground-based attacks were still likely.

Kenna secured her grip on her swords. The man in front of her was tall and lean, but his wings were smaller than most angels' and the feathers dull. He was a Nephilim. She couldn't make out his features. The setting sun was a burnt orange behind him. Despite the geographic disadvantage, Kenna wasn't worried. The Nephilim had landed between her and Dedrick, and Johnathan, Bree, and Mayor Bell. Her other two guards had already taken up defensive positions. The Nephilim had a sword too, and he spun it in his hands. He had barely shifted his stance to attack when Johnathan lunged. His sword shimmered in the evening light as it sliced through the air. He had a gun, but would only use it on enemies who would die from a bullet. Nephilim had the durability, longevity, and healing properties of their angel parents. His wings would shield him from bullets.

While Johnathan kept the Nephilim busy, Kenna yelled at the others.

"Bree, Dedrick. Get the Mayor out of here."

The horses obeyed her command to come and were quickly mounted. Kenna heard Johnathan grunt and she ducked under a swinging sword. The Nephilim had thrown Johnathan to the ground and was now focused on her. She deftly dodged another blow and began to slowly work her way around the Nephilim, trying to maneuver him so that the sun shone in his eyes. Johnathan was back on his feet. He edged around until he was positioned so that no matter which way the Nephilim turned, he would be exposing his flank to one of them. The Nephilim laughed raucously, distorting his finely carved face and hardening his golden eyes.

"Fools. You think I do not know what you are doing. I fought in the great Nephilim-Angel War. I will not be defeated by the likes of you. I am told you were in Helena with Archangels Michael and Gabriel. Tell them an old friend wishes to meet."

He took flight. Kenna flicked a blade at him and sliced into his calf. It wouldn't kill him, but the cut from her Empyrean steel swords would take a few days to heal. That would have to do for now.

Johnathan whistled for the two remaining horses. Galre-ad and his roan mare trotted over. They had removed themselves from the action, as trained, until needed. They would need to ride fast to catch the others.

* * *

General Riesen finished buttoning his suit jacket and ran a hand over the sleeves to pluck off any lint. He stared at himself in the mirror. Tired eyes looked back at him. He turned and sought out his favorite picture. There on the end table in a dark frame was a picture of his daughter. He picked it up and let his fingers rest on the glass, just to the side of Claire's face. This picture had been taken just before he had asked her to take a more active political role. Riesen missed that beautiful smile. The moment he had been freed from being a prisoner in his own body, he had promised himself to protect Vega's citizens as though each was his Claire.

A knock on the door brought him out of his reverie. On the other side, he found Dan.

"Ready sir?" asked Dan.

"I'm ready."

General Riesen pulled shut the door and he and Dan walked together through the city. They skirted the massive crowd and came up to the platform. Riesen pulled at his jacket, straightening it. After a nod of approval from Dan, he stepped onto the platform and stood in the center by a microphone stand. He took the microphone out of the stand and flicked the cord connected to large speakers out of his way.

"People of Vega, we have toiled under great hardship for many years. I stand before you now a humbled man. I have made mistakes. I have regrets, but this city is not one of them. You are not one of them. Today I announce my candidacy for Leader of Vega. Stand with me and we will stand strong. Thank you."

He stepped off the platform amid a smattering of applause and gave the microphone to David Whele. Whele started his candidacy speech quietly.

"Strife can bring out the best in people, and others the worst. I thought my strife had molded me into a strong leader, but now I realize I do not measure what is my best." His voice grew powerful. "The people I serve do. Your happiness, your accomplishments, your peace is my best. That is our best. Together, we will succeed."

He didn't offer thanks. He simply placed the microphone back on the stand and got down from the platform. The applause that followed him was much louder than Riesen's. He shook hands with a few nearby listeners. A few feet away, Riesen was doing the same.

With the candidacy speeches over, the crowd began to disperse. A lone figure, smartly dressed, even in worn clothing, crossed the platform and stopped behind the microphone. He flipped it back on.

"I announce my candidacy for Leader of Vega."

He shut off the microphone again and walked off, not meeting eyes with anyone. His faint Italian accented voice hung over the hushed crowd. Riesen and Whele shared a confused look. An unknown player had just entered the political playing field.

* * *

Alex shifted uncomfortably. His wrists were chaffed and his face gaunt. His normally muscular physique had become stringy. He was given minimal food and water, but without any physical activity, his body was beginning to deteriorate. It had been three and a half weeks since Noma had taken him from Vega. Alex had hoped Michael would find him, but that seemed less and less likely with each passing day. He had thought about escaping during one of his bathroom breaks, but he was always under Noma's supervision and he didn't know where he was anyway. He wished he had been awake during the move. Lucifer had put so much pressure on Alex's mind before they left that he had been unconscious the whole time. Noma had already set up their new location and had flown Alex there quickly. She had secured him in shackles again before going back for Lucifer.

Alex tilted his head side-to-side dejectedly, wondering where Noma was. He heard footsteps echo against the cavern walls and Noma appeared between large cracks between the limestone and feldspar rocks. He glared at her. During the first week, his emotions had swung wildly between extremes. He had been hurt by her betrayal, but also felt like it was his fault. She had sacrificed her identity for him and he knew no way to repay her. Alex had hoped the tattoos would help him, teach him how to heal. If he could evict and angel and bring the original soul back intact, then surely he should be able to give Noma wings again. But like every time he really needed the tattoos, they had failed him. Noma had sought help elsewhere. At first, it had bothered him that he couldn't provide for her. Now though, all he felt was deep hurt and hot anger. He voiced a question that had been bothering him.

"Why didn't you wait for your Father? Wouldn't he have healed you?" He didn't bother keeping his voice low.

Noma scowled. She met Alex's hard glare with her own.

"There are rules. I made a vow to Michael that I would give my life for you. Such a promise, particularly among angels, has no exceptions. Father wouldn't have healed me anyway. I wasn't the angel Noma. I was nothing. Lucifer heard my pleas, felt my pain and shared in it. He showed me another way."

"No, you were weak. You gave up. Don't try to excuse your actions, Noma. If you vowed to Michael to protect me, then why did you bring me here and why has Lucifer asked me to sacrifice myself for him? Some guardian angel you are," Alex sneered.

Noma flinched, but otherwise didn't react. "There are some things no human, not even the Chosen One, can hope to understand," she said with forced calm.

"I understand perfectly. I loved you, but you didn't love me."

Noma scrutinized him for a second longer and then spun around and left. The Son of Morning's deep, rich laugh followed her out.

* * *

 **So yeah, Kenna. That will make sense eventually. There are still a few chapters to go before we learn more about her. Alex isn't really feeling that Noma love anymore, is he...but that is where the fun is. It won't be much longer until Alex is saved, I promise! How am I doing so far? I love reading your comments!  
**


	8. Chapter 8

"Testing"

The main gate of Fairmont opened wide for the rushing riders. They came to a halt once within the walls. The horses' sides heaved and froth splattered their necks. The five riders dismounted and an eight-ball hurried to them.

"Are you alright? What happened? You were riding like the Devil himself was giving chase."

"Edgar, good to see you too. You will hear our story during the council meeting," said Mayor Bell.

"The rest have already been called. They should be there by the time we arrive."

Mayor Bell handed the reins of his horse to Kenna and he followed the retreating figure to the council chamber.

"Bree, Dedrick. You should go to the meeting too. It will be a good experience. Bring your horses to the stable and then go," Kenna said. "And I still expect you at training tomorrow," she added.

The stables were at the opposite end of the city and were open to the valley. The stone wall around the city became a metal fence. It was less secure, but easier to transport the horses and other farm animals. Kenna and Johnathan brushed the horses thoroughly, wiping away sweat and dust after their long hard ride. They had made good time, cutting the week left of travel down to five days. The horses would be treated to a special blend of feed and treats and lots of time in the pasture for their hard work.

After taking care of the horses, Kenna and Johnathan joined the council meeting. The sun had nearly set when it ended. Kenna's radio buzzed with a request for her to come to the front gate immediately. She parted from the others and jogged to the gate. Her stomach grumbled. She had planned to have dinner with the council members, but it looked like this latest development would prevent that. She neared the gate and saw several soldiers surrounding two men.

"You made it. Excellent. We were beginning to worry," she said to Michael and Gabriel. "Stand down," she ordered the soldiers. "The council has been made aware of your visit. They look forward to meeting you tomorrow. I did think you would arrive before us."

"We searched for Alex on our way," said Michael.

She motioned for them to follow her. Some of the soldiers still cast wary glances at the guests. Fairmont rarely received visitors. She led them along the outskirts of the city until they came to a small but comfortable one-story house.

"This is my house. You'll be staying with me. Guest lodging isn't complete yet."

Kenna pushed open the simple wood door. She never bothered locking it. She trusted everyone in Fairmont and those who would hurt her wouldn't be deterred by a locked door. The rich aroma of chicken soup drifted from the kitchen.

"Darlene must be here," Kenna said, smiling.

As soon as she entered the kitchen, she was wrapped in an embrace. Darlene's black eyes were bright and the wrinkles of her weathered face deepened with her smile.

"I know you haven't eaten yet. Sit." She shoved Kenna into a chair. "You too, boys," Darlene said, snapping her fingers at the Archangels.

They sat with Kenna at the rectangular wood table in the center of the kitchen. Darlene placed steaming bowls of soup before them. Kenna groaned happily and dug in. The other two, however, eyed their bowls suspiciously. Michael closely watched Darlene putter around the kitchen putting things away. When she picked up a knife she had used to cut vegetables, Michael tensed. Beside him, Gabriel mimicked him. Darlene caught their glares and in a flash she was standing behind Kenna, knife pressed to the soldier's throat.

"Because I am an eight-ball, you think I will hurt people?" she hissed. She glared across the table at the rigid Archangels, daring them to make a move.

Kenna, who had already finished her soup, tilted her head back to look at Darlene. "Do you have any berry preserves left? I'm really craving some pie." She was completely unperturbed by the knife against her throat.

Darlene laughed and leaned down to kiss Kenna's forehead. "I'll see what I can do." She went back to cleaning up.

"We did tell you, back in Helena," Kenna said to the Archangels. "Are you going to eat that?"

She reached for Michael's bowl. He swatted her hand away and began eating. She leaned back with a smile. No one could resist Darlene's cooking.

"We had a surprise encounter on our return trip, a Nephilim," she said.

"Any injuries?" asked Gabriel. He surveyed what he could see of her.

Kenna squirmed under his stare and reminded herself to breathe. "We're fine. The Nephilim had a message. He said he fought in the Angel-Nephilim War and wants to meet, didn't say where though."

The morning dawned bright and cool. Michael rolled off the couch and stretched, loosening his tight muscles. In a nearby chair, Gabriel snored lightly. Michael kicked the chair.

"Get up. I know you are awake."

In front of the couch was a table. There were two stacks of neatly folded clothing and a note.

 _Had an early meeting. Found some fresh clothes. Darlene will be by at 9 o'clock to show you to the council chamber. Feel free to have whatever is in the kitchen._

 _-K_

Michael dressed in the clean clothes, pleased she had found something similar to what he had, even new coats for him and Gabriel. The solid black attire and trench coats were fashion quirks the brothers shared. Uriel had often teased them about it. Even Raphael had though it was funny, though that may have been because she was happiest when Uriel was happy. Michael smiled fondly at the memories and kicked the chair again to rouse his fake-sleeping brother. If one of them was awake, so was the other.

Darlene arrived promptly at nine. She led them to the center of the city, pointing out various structures on their way. They stopped at a three-story brick building topped by a spire.

"Council meetings are held in the courthouse. The receptionist will direct you to the right room," Darlene said.

She bid them good bye. Inside the courthouse, it was simple and clean. The receptionist took them to a large room on the third floor and announced their arrival. The room had the distinctive feel of formality. A deep wood adorned the floor and paneled the walls. There was raised seating along the back wall and half of the far wall. Across from the back wall, left of the doors, was a massive stained glass window depicting biblical scenes. The window was made of three parts: two rectangular panes that could be swung open and a window arch above them. More light spilled through the windows placed around the spire, open to the room. Five elegant carved chairs formed a half-circle in the center with the opening toward the raised seating. Here the council members sat. Mayor Bell sat across from the window. To his left were Edgar and Ekatrina. On his right, Kenna and Tom.

"Welcome, Archangels. Please, sit." Mayor Bell waved toward the seats on the back wall. "I know we've already discussed the council, but perhaps a refresher."

He started with his far left, nodding in the direction of each person as he introduced them.

Ekatrina, our Education Superintendent. Edgar, our Museum Curator. He is also our, ah, spiritual advisor. You already know Kenna and I. And Tom, our City Secretary. He ensures the city remains operable day-to-day."

"Pleasure," Michael said, dipping his head in acknowledgment of each person. "Has there been any news from your contacts?" he asked Kenna.

"Not yet. Our network had been informed to report anything unusual and scouts have been sent to gather intel from some of our more difficult sources. We hope for answers soon."

Michael frowned, but otherwise didn't show his worry. He felt it though. Buzzing filled his ears and his vision was blurry. The softest hum from his brother calmed him and he focused on the meting again.

"Are the preparations complete?" asked Tom.

"The city service will begin at eight and the children's service at eleven," replied Edgar.

"Xandar and I will be near guards for Edgar and Mayor Bell. We will be with you all day," Kenna told the men. "We've set up rotations for all other guards. All security measures have passed testing."

"Good," said Tom. He began checking off items on his notepad. "We look good for the following day as well. Locations have been mapped and approved and all participants have verified their attendance."

"Excellent," Mayor Bell said. "That is everything on today's agenda. Meeting adjourned."

Edgar and Kenna came up to the Archangels.

"How about a museum tour? It is our greatest achievement," said Edgar.

The museums, there were three, were across from the courthouse. A small nature park separated the courthouse and museum system. They followed a winding path through the park, stopping occasionally to speak with the people milling about.

"This place is a utopia," Gabriel said, impressed. "Nothing like New Delphi."

"Told you so," Kenna said, nudging him with her elbow.

They reached the other side of the park and Edgar stepped forward. He swept his arms out grandly.

"Our greatest achievement, the Museums of History, Science, and Angels. We'll be touring the Angel Museum."

"Naturally," muttered Michael.

The museums were constructed of white stone and windows and were connected by glass skywalks. Unlike the other buildings in the city, these looked modern with many slanting edges and reflected brightly in the late morning sun.

As they approached the Angel Museum, they were greeted by a metal sculpture of three figures. Two were angels facing opposite directions, one with wings spread wide and the other with wings nestled against back and both with swords in hand. The third figure was a male human, features nondescript. Michael and Gabriel walked around the sculpture.

"It's us. Remarkable likeness. Though, that is not at all how Alex looks," Gabriel said.

"We didn't have a description of him at the time this was commissioned. However, some of our lower angels had seen the two of you and helped the sculptors. Read the inscription," said Edgar.

Michael knelt at the base. "Hope binds the Heart and Sword." He stood. "It is fitting," he said with a small smile to his brother.

Edgar led them inside. The interior was as spectacular as the outside.

"It took nearly all of two years to complete the museums. It was attention well-placed. When the world is rebuilt, our store of information will become the knowledge that helps us grow." Edgar's face flushed with embarrassment. "The human this body housed was a historian. I too have an appreciation for the past, coupled with a bright outlook for the future. This museum starts with the creation of the first angel and continues to the present. We still lack information, but you may still learn something."

The knowing way Edgar spoke made Michael curious. They wound through rooms dedicated to each Archangel. Although sparse, the information on each was accurate. Michael was unsettled seeing paintings and tapestries of himself. That discomfort was soon dwarfed when his violent past was described. The depictions made his skin crawl. That had not been his finest moment. He knew that beside him, Gabriel was remembering too. He felt a light touch on his arm and saw Kenna standing beside him.

"This is your past, Michael. It has shaped who you are today, which is someone pretty great, I think. Do not be ashamed."

He gave her a gentle smile and followed her and Edgar to the next room, this one dedicated to Gabriel. Michael stayed close, knowing this would be hard for his brother. Overall, Gabriel handled it well, though he said little. He purposely skirted past the description of his role in the story of David and Goliath. Michael scanned it quickly for accuracy and then joined his brother. Sensing they wanted to keep moving, Edgar continued the tour.

He stopped beside the largest painting yet. The title read, "The Apocalypse." It showed the broken seal and the dogs of Heaven raining down onto the mortal realm. It showed Michael and Gabriel at war and a baby swaddled in blankets between them. A plaque described the moment.

"I'm sure you are familiar with this," said Edgar," but perhaps not our explanation. We teach three versions of God's desire in this moment. One: Father wanted the Chosen One found and protected. Two: Father wanted humanity utterly destroyed and the Chosen One's death would be a part of that. Three, and this is what we ascribe to, Father wanted the lower angels to be released so that we may cleanse the world of the unworthy and he wanted the Chosen One to be protected so that he could be the light to guide the rest."

Michael and Gabriel both looked at Edgar in surprise.

"What are you saying?" whispered Michael.

"We believe that in this moment," Edgar pointed to the picture, "you were both right. It was Mayor Bell, Kenna, and I who came up with the theory."

"Well, we were pretty drunk at the time," Kenna said.

Edgar gave her a playful shove. "We had enough drinks to free the mind is all."

Gabriel turned to Michael. "Do you think it is really that simple?"

Michael grimaced and looked to the others. "Why is this the version you choose to believe? What makes it more plausible than the others?"

The gifts your Father gave you," Kenna answered. "Why would he give one of you the ability to save humanity and the other the ability to destroy it? You are halves of a whole, always in balance. Would not the gifts be meant for the same purpose?"

"Hmm," hummed Michael. "A novel concept."

They came to the last room on the tour. The door was barred shut by a lock. Edgar slid the key into it and it clicked open. The room was dimly lit. Soft white lights illuminated the displays.

"If we have to kill a higher angel, we keep their belongings here," Kenna said quietly. "If they are given a new body, we will return what is theirs. Some of the weapons have been gifted to Fairmont's soldiers who have demonstrated exemplary loyalty and skill."

The Archangels drifted between displays. So many of their brethren had died, and some at this city, no doubt by the hand of the woman standing at the door. At least Fairmont showed respect to the dead. When they reached the back wall, they stalled. There were scores of names carved into the wall.

A memorial for those lost since Father's disappearance," said Edgar. "There will not be enough space for all of them."

After the tour, Edgar and Kenna left the Archangels to their own devices. Edgar had museum business to attend to and Kenna had a training session. The military compound was near her house, sectioned off from the rest of the city. The shouts of officers giving commands greeted her. Her top three commanders were working groups though their forms in the training rings. Everyone in Fairmont was required to complete the first two Classes of training. Class A was for beginners and focused heavily on evasion and self-defense. It was comprised of mostly children. Class B was for basic offense and intermediate defense and was mostly teens. Those two Classes were mandatory for all citizens. Class C was reserved for soldiers. Kenna and her commanders had developed a series of tests to determine who would be allowed to become a soldier. Today was the first of three days of testing. The commanders, second Xandar, third Rodriguez, and fourth Contra, were warming up groups of people from Class B who wanted to become soldiers. There were about thirty, but only a handful, if any, would advance. Most were in their early twenties, but two were teenagers, 17 year old Raina and 18 year old Justin. He was Rodriguez's son. Despite their age, they were the frontrunners. Kenna called the groups to gather.

"Today we begin testing to determine if you have what it takes to be a soldier of Fairmont. We will begin by assessing your knowledge of basic and intermediate forms. This will be a mix of questions and demonstrations. If you make a mistake, you are eliminated. Come forward when you hear your name."

Four names were called, one per commander, and the testing began. Some were eliminated quickly, the stress proving too much. Others made it through several questions before faltering. After an hour and forty-five minutes, eighteen had passed the test, including the two teens.

The second test occurred in the evening and was conducted in a classroom. Since Rodriguez and Contra were both on duty that night, Kenna and Xandar split the exams to grade them. Results would be posted in the morning. Again, missing one question would result in elimination.

Kenna was sitting at her kitchen table, grading exams, when Michael and Gabriel walked in. They had spent the day checking out the city.

"What have you got there?" asked Michael.

"Exams. Want to help me grade?"

"What subject?" asked Gabriel. He was rummaging through the pantry and refrigerator.

Michael grabbed Kenna's pen and threw it at him. "How can you possibly be hungry? We just ate."

"Why don't you have anything sweet in here?"

"Darlene won't let me." Kenna sounded quite put out.

"What is she, your mother?" teased Gabriel.

"The closest I have to one," she said quietly.

"Sorry." He gave her back the pen.

She tapped the exam in front of her. "Military history."

"We know a thing or two about that," Michael said, trying to lighten the mood. He pulled a stack to him while Kenna found more pens.

The next morning, the sun rose upon a silent city. Gabriel was up before Michael and was just about to tip him onto the floor in repayment for yesterday's kicking when he heard the sound of scraping metal. Instead of tipping his snickering brother onto the floor, he punched him in the stomach and left him be. Gabriel followed the sound to a room he hadn't been in before. It was an office, neatly organized and designed for efficiency. There was a large cabinet without shelves against a wall, and that is where Kenna was.

Gabriel leaned against the doorframe. "Not that you don't look great like that, but why are you wearing armor?"

The dark silver metal gleamed in the early dawn light filtering through the lone window.

"Do you know what day it is?" Kenna asked.

Gabriel shrugged. Time meant little to an immortal.

"Today makes 26 years. It is the anniversary of your Father's disappearance."  
Gabriel turned away and pressed his back against the hallway wall. Ten seconds later, Kenna was by his side. She thumbed away his tears.

"We are having a service at eight. You and Michael are welcome to join us if you like. Just follow everyone else."

She kept her hand on his cheek a moment longer before leaving. Gabriel didn't move until he heard the front door close behind her. In the living room, Michael sat at the edge of his seat, staring blankly. With his superior hearing, he had heard their conversation. Gabriel sat beside him and they each wrapped an arm around the other, their sorrow mingling until it was no longer the sorrow of two, but of one.

The stone church was packed. The pews were full and there were still rows of people standing. Michael and Gabriel had decided to attend. They stood near the doors, hidden in shadow. Precisely at eight o'clock, the bell in the tower above rang and the doors swung open to admit four people. In walked Mayor Bell, flanked by his guard Xandar. A few steps behind came Edgar in pressed black dress pants and a crisp dress shirt. There was no flowing white robe to signify purity. A false sense of piety had caused Father's disappearance in the first place. His guard was Kenna. She and Xandar were both dressed in full regalia, with shining armor, swords, and a deep blue cape adorned with the silver Fairmont insignia, a leafless tree with a sword as the trunk and a single feather at the base. Mayor Bell took the seat that had been saved for him and Edgar went behind the altar. Kenna and Xandar took up positions across from each other and against the walls. They could see all of the room but wouldn't block anyone's view of Edgar, who had begun to speak.

"Twenty-six years ago we were thrown into chaos. Angels were cast down upon the Earthy Plane and humans learned the truth of their existence. We fought and we hated. That is not our Heavenly Father's legacy. Look about you. Turn to your neighbor. What do you see? Peace and love. That is His legacy."

The service continued for an hour and a half. Edgar ended it with a reminder to live honestly. He mentioned the children's service at eleven, which would be over at noon, and said he would be available the rest of the day for confessions, though no one was required to do so.

Because Edgar did not rest, neither did Kenna. She knew Xandar was in a similar position with Mayor Bell. They were visiting with families to simply offer company and hear their stories. Kenna stayed in the church with Edgar, but far enough away to not make people uncomfortable during their confessional. The sun had set and the last few stragglers were leaving the church. Edgar would stay until midnight, but he didn't expect many more. A lone figure entered. It was Michael. He looked questioningly at Kenna. She pointed to the confessional where he would find Edgar. He gave her a warning glare to stay before shutting himself in the small space. Michael was in there longer than anyone else, but that was to be expected. Even in the span of a human's lifetime, he had experienced much. He left with his head down and brow furrowed. Gabriel came next. His was much like Michael's. He didn't leave though. Instead, he sat in a pew with his head tilted back and eyes closed. The hours ticked by quietly. At midnight, Kenna nudged Gabriel. She narrowly avoided getting whacked.

Scowling, she said, "Edgar and I are leaving. Stay as long as you like. The church is always open."

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut again and sighed. "I can't hear him," he said softly.

Kenna sat beside him. "That doesn't mean he can't hear you. Rest. Tomorrow is another big day."

Gabriel smiled as he listened to her footsteps echo into silence.

* * *

Dan wrung his hands. This was not good. Once you joined, you could never really get out. The Mob would always come back for him.

"No one knew his real name. We called him Bookie because he kept the books."

"Is he a threat?" asked General Riesen.

"Book keepers were generally kept out of the action. They needed to be protected from those who would bribe them. Bookie though, well, he wasn't a typical keeper. There seemed to be something off about him. He was smarter than everyone and could almost always persuade others without resorting to violence. But, I think he could have busted some kneecaps in his time."

"So we need to keep an eye on him," said Riesen.

"Definitely. Him as a politician can only mean trouble."

In House Whele, David Whele was deep in a bottle of whiskey. He hiccupped and took another swig. He was in William's room, slouched on the bed. Whele rubbed his face and stared around the room. There wasn't much to see. William's room was sparsely decorated. There was a single tattered picture of him and Claire in the corner on the floor. A couple tall white candles were on a desk. Wax had dripped down the candles and hardened, leaving the candles with ridged sides. A pool of wax had collected at the base of the glass holders.

Whele set down the bottle and stood. He swayed and put a hand on the bed to steady himself. Tottering drunkenly, he made his way to the closet. When he opened the door, the smell of clean linen washed over him. He reached out a shaky hand to touch the hanging shirts. He ran his fingers along a sleeve and then tugged it to him. Whele fell to the floor, hugging the shirt close. He bowed his head and let loose the tears he had been holding back since the funeral. He began to pull down more shirts, burying himself in the clothes his son had worn. A thick black marker outline drew his attention to the back of the closet. He moved the stuff blocking the wall until he could see all of it. There were the outlines of four people. On the right were two small figures. One was clearly a girl with long hair and the other a boy. On the left were the two others. One was a full-grown person with curled hair. The other was a small child in the adult's lap. Each figure was labelled. From left to right: "Mom," "Me," "Peggy," and "Charles." Then Whele saw another outline drawn on the inside of the closet door. "Dad." Whele wailed. He really had failed all of his family. He had never seen the depth of William's despair. His son's broken psyche was his fault. Whele crawled into the closet and stayed there until the following day.

* * *

"Emotions. They are spectacular, aren't they?"

Lucifer's voice drifted through Alex's and Noma's minds.

"A gift or a curse? Only those made in Father's image can experience them in all their glory. A curse, I think," mused Lucifer. "If they weren't, then why do they cause so much suffering? Even pleasant emotions end in pain. Take love, for example. Tell me. What has love done for you, Alex?"

Alex thought hard. What had love done for him? He had loved Claire and he had loved the life growing inside her, but just like Lucifer said, it had ended in pain. He had loved Michael, but had witnessed him kill in a senseless rage. And now, when Alex needed him more than ever, he hadn't come. Alex had loved Noma, and she had betrayed him more than anyone else. Alex was just about to concede when he thought of one other thing he loved.

"I love humanity's potential, and that has given me purpose."

"Yes, Alex. Yes. Humanity's potential. I love it too. Upon my return, I will do what Father did not. I will nurture humankind. Soon, humans and angels alike will see me not as a vengeful God, but as a father and brother. We will walk hand-in-hand to a bright future. Their love will give me strength, and once all love me, all traces of the wraith of Heaven will be gone. Already my dear little Noma loves me, and I know just the humans to start with. We are not so different, you and I. We want the same thing. Won't you help me?"

Noma watched Alex carefully. Oh, how she wished her mission was complete. She was ready, right now, to finish it. She hadn't been sure at first if this was meant to be her path. But, the more she saw Alex and Lucifer interact, the more intent she was on seeing her mission through successfully. The end was so close. It all hung on Alex's next words.

"I want to help you," said Alex.

Noma tensed.

"But I don't think my sacrifice is the best way to do so."

Noma eased. She wouldn't be finishing her mission today.

"Alex. Alex," chided Lucifer. "Don't you know? Father knows best."

Alex cried out in pain. He felt like his head was exploding. Images of Claire, Noma, and Michael flashed through his mind.

"I have seen your desires, Alex."

The images of Claire became few and then none. The same happened with the images of Michael. In his mind's eye, he could only see Noma with her black hair in a high ponytail and her bright smile.

"Love, Alex. A curse and a gift. It is your curse and my gift."

Noma screamed. She folded in on herself, clutching her head. She felt her right hand move and grab the Empyrean steel dagger strapped to her leg. The pressure felt insurmountable. She fought through it and locked down the parts of her mind she didn't want Lucifer to see. He might possess her, but he couldn't have all of her. She felt her hand bring the dagger to her throat. Her mouth formed words in tandem with Lucifer's.

"If you won't die for me, will you die for her?"

* * *

 **Uh-oh, Lucifer is out of patience. What's worse, he knows that Alex might be mad at Noma, but his heart still loves her. I thought if Gabriel can figure out how to possess others, then Luc probably has figured that out too. He has had a lot of time to practice, after all.  
**

 **So the events in the movie Legion take place in late December. I forgot that when I was writing, so I have Father disappearing in Spring (in northern hemisphere, since this takes place in the U.S.). I've tried to keep everything canon as much as possible, but I messed up on that one. But, I like the idea of God disappearing at the start of the season that brings new life. Hope that's ok with you guys.**


	9. Chapter 9

"Beginnings and Endings"

"Do you ever sleep?" asked Michael as he joined Kenna on the wall above the city gates.

"No, not really," she said. "Where's your other half?"

"Roaming about, enjoying the attention. There are many people out this morning."

"We're celebrating the founding of Fairmont. It will be a day long party." Kenna scanned the tree line outside the city. "Ah, there they are." She leaped down the steps and waited by the gate.

"Another test?" asked Michael.

"Yes. Those who passed the first two tests must spend the night outside the city with no tools or weapons. We'll interview them individually and then as a group to determine how they fared."

"You send them out unprotected?" Michael was shocked.

"Of course not. There are guards out there too, though the testees don't know that."

The twelve who had passed the previous tests filed through the gate, weary. Kenna parted from Michael to question the testees. They were always spoken with individually first so that they wouldn't have much time to collaborate their stories. The interviews were used to evaluate how each person reacted to the unknown and how they worked as a team. The guards would also be questioned. No decisions would be made until the final test that afternoon. The first two tests were quantitative in nature, while the last two were more subjective.

By 10:00 A.M., the city was bustling. Vendors lined the streets and live music drifted from the park. Kenna, now finished conducting interviews, searched the streets. She loved seeing everyone happy and celebrating, but all the activity made her anxious. Attacks were a lot harder to fend off with the whole city partying. She wasn't on guard duty today, but as Guardian of the City and Head of Fairmont's security, she never really took a day off. Right now, she wanted to be around the one person who calmed her, even if he could kill her with a flick of his wings. She really needed to get over this crush. A high pitched voice called to her.

"Guardie!"

Kenna spun around just in time to catch the two year old girl who had flung herself at Kenna.

"Hello my little one. Where are your parents?"

The girl pointed down the street and then reached for cookies being handed out by a nearby vendor. Kenna got her a cookie and carried her down the street back to her parents, talking as they went.

"Are you ready to start school?"

"No. No school," pouted the child.

"Don't you want to learn lots of cool stuff?"

She shook her head, crumbs dropping from her lips.

"Well, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Guardie," sang the girl shrilly.

"Guardians have to know lots of stuff. You have to go to school and learn everything you can to be a guardian. Can you do that?"

The girl nodded and finished her cookie. She started to play with Kenna's hair, trying to braid it like her mom had done hers. Kenna spotted Mayor Bell sitting at a table outside a restaurant and detoured in his direction. To her delight, the Archangels were with him.

"Did she escape her parents again?" Mayor Bell asked.

I swear she is giving me gray hairs."

Mayor Bell chuckled. Sitting beside him was Michael. The girl reached for him. He was taken aback, but took her from Kenna and sat her on his lap.

"Are you an angel?" the girl asked. "Daddy says so."

Michael glanced at Kenna and Mayor Bell for their permission. He smiled and held the girl as he stood. He unfurled his wings. She giggled and reached around to touch the feathers. Like Gabriel had in Helena, Michael too seemed to melt around children. Their innocence was a gift.

"Her parents were the first angel-human marriage and she is the first child born here," said Mayor Bell.

"Marriage?" said Michael.

Mayor Bell nodded. "Her mother is a human and her father is a lower angel."

Out of the restaurant walked Gabriel, carrying a bowl of chocolate cream pudding. Kenna already felt calmer. She slid past Michael, who was listening intently to the girl's story about when she had lost her favorite doll.

"You're going to get fat, eating that," Kenna joked, leaning on the wall beside Gabriel.

"Just for that, I'm not sharing."

"Considering you've already devoured half the bowl, I don't think you would sha…."

Gunfire interrupted her. Within a second, Gabriel was beside Michael, hand pressed to his chest. Mayor Bell took the girl and they went inside. Michael retracted his wings and slid to the ground with a groan. Kenna and every other soldier nearby scoured the crowd for the shooter. She saw the gun pointed at them, but was too far away to do anything.

"Shield," she said the Gabriel.

He spread his wings and the bullets bounced off. He kept them shielded until a soldier confirmed the shooter and been subdued.

"Will he be alright?" Kenna asked.

Michael's breathing was shallow. Blood leached from between Gabriel's fingers, even as he tried to staunch the wound.

"Yes, but the bullet must be removed quickly. Already he has begun to heal around it."

Kenna waved a soldier over. "Show them to the infirmary."

Gabriel cradled his brother to his chest and wrapped his wings partially around them. The soldier led them away swiftly.

After ensuring Mayor Bell and the girl were safe and her parents found, Kenna went to the prison. A human man stared at her from behind bars. He was clean-shaven and his eyes shown with sharp intelligence. His smirk really pissed off Kenna. She stayed still, waiting for the rage to pass. He would be no good to them if she killed him before getting answers. Once sure she was in control, she entered the holding cell. Even when off duty, she carried her swords and gun, but she left them with the guard outside the room. The no weapons in the cell room had been her doing. The man's smirk widened. Kenna took one step forward, her demeanor changing from cautious guard to dangerous enemy. His smirk faded away. She didn't say anything. She just stood there. The minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly. Still, she did not speak. The cell door opened behind her and she felt Gabriel's hand on her shoulder. She withdrew and locked the cell door.

"I've been waiting for you," the man said to Gabriel.

His next words were cut off by a vicious punch. He stumbled back until he had nowhere to go. Gabriel followed. Bones cracked and skin split.

"Alive, Gabriel," Kenna warned.

He glanced at her. She gazed back steadily until he stepped away from the man.

"What is your purpose here?" he snarled.

The man sat up from where he was slumped on the floor. He leaned on his unbroken arm. The other dangled uselessly.

"I have come to deliver a message. You are summoned to a meeting. 52.1792°N, 113.8832°W. Noon."

"Who sent you?"

"You'll see."

Gabriel looked to Kenna again. "He can provide no further value."

She nodded. A moment later, Gabriel left the cell and its deceased occupant.

"Come here," Kenna said, pulling him into a bathroom. She wet some paper towels and cleaned the blood from his hands. "You took care of me. Only fair if I return the favor."

"Thank you."

They were so close, his breath tickled her cheek. Caught in the warmth of his eyes, she moved closer. If she leaned forward just a couple inches more, their lips would meet. Instead, she slipped past him and threw away the paper towels. He chuckled softly and followed her back out.

"How is Michael?" she asked.

"I'm fine."

Michael appeared in front of them, whole and well. The look of pure love and adoration shared between the brothers made Kenna uncomfortable. She missed the days when her family looked at her like that.

"Did you hear me?" Gabriel watched Kenna, concerned.

"Oh, sorry. Thinking about something. What did you say?"

"We are going to the coordinates. They're not far."

"Is it alright if we fly in the city?" asked Michael.

Kenna nodded. "Yeah. Now that the soldiers have been briefed, it's fine if you fly."

* * *

The coordinates directed them to a small airport. Debris littered the runway. The air was damp from a spring storm. Waiting for them was the Nephilim the Fairmont group had encountered. Beside him was another. Their features were shockingly similar. The four men stood across from each other silently, waiting to see who would make the first move.

The first Nephilim laughed. "I see much hasn't changed."

"What do you want?" said Michael.

"Straight to business then. You never were one for fun. An ultimatum. Stop your efforts to bring back your Father, or the angels we hold captive will suffer an endless torture, as will you."  
"Pfft. No angel would allow themselves to be at your mercy," said Gabriel.

"Do you remember her, your niece?" asked the second Nephilim. "She was perfect, and you killed her. Her death must be avenged. Give up your Father or give up yourselves. Choose."

"Neither," Michael said.

He made to attack, but found his footing unsteady as the ground shook from multiple explosions. The Nephilim flew off seconds before the area was engulfed in flames. The ground had looked wet from rain, but was actually gasoline. This had been a trap. Defunct vehicles and charter planes exploded, raining shrapnel on the Archangels. There were some pieces of Empyrean steel as well. None caused any serious injury, but the cuts would take longer to heal.

After the explosions stopped and Michael and Gabriel could retreat to a safe distance, Gabriel spoke.

"This is not about revenge. They left her to die that day."

"No, this is about power," Michael said. "One more thing to contend with."

He gazed back at the flaming airport. His eyes were dark with worry.

"We must warn the others," said Gabriel.

Michael nodded and used his wings to send a message to all angels, warning them of the Nephilim and their human allies.

* * *

When Michael and Gabriel returned to the city, Fairmont was in the throes of a fantastic party. Despite the earlier attack, the streets were packed. Food, drinks, and stories were in ample supply. Since there was a huge crowd near the training grounds, that is where they landed. They were greeted with roars of approval. The crowd split, forming a clear path to the training rings. Along the path came Kenna, Xandar, Rodriguez, and Contra. They each carried bladed weapons, no guns.

"You're just in time," Kenna said, stopping beside the Archangels.

"For what?" asked Michael.

"This is our version of a gladiator fight. It's the final test. Each potential soldier will face off with a commander. Rodriguez will be fighting his son Justin. I hope he kicks that cocky kid's butt," she said gleefully.

"Wow, you'll make a great mother someday," Gabriel said sarcastically.

"Naw, can't have children. Too busy anyway." A horn sounded at the rings. "Gotta go."

Kenna left them. Gabriel felt bad for her, but the inkling of an idea began to form in his mind. She was exceedingly beautiful, with her dark hair, fair complexion, and storm blue eyes. He wondered what it would be like to kiss those full pink lips and trace the curves of her body. He had had many women before, human and angel, but never one quite so intense. And given her occupation, she probably had more stamina than most, which was always a plus.

In the training rings, the fights were staggered so that a bit of each could be watched. It was the last opportunity for testees to prove their worth. The clanging of swords and occasional shouts rang through the air. The commanders were clearly superior, though most testees landed a few hits.

The Rodriguez-Rodriguez showdown was as good as expected. Commander Rodriguez was the opposite of his son. Justin was hot-headed and cocky. He liked to make the first move. He struck a heavy blow. Commander Rodriguez easily blocked it. His fighting style favored patience. He would wait for an opening. Justin pushed the attack. He slid around his father and landed a punch with his empty hand. His other hand held a sword above his head. In his haste to finish the fight, he had exposed his midriff. Commander Rodriguez made his move. He pressed the tip of his sword against Justin's side.

"We are finished," Commander Rodriguez said.

Justin trouped out of the ring and glumly watched the rest of the fights. One ring over, Kenna and Raina were beginning theirs. Raina had excelled at every lesson and it showed. She didn't rush her attack, but she also didn't relent. Raina had opted for a single slim blade and she wielded it well. She parried with Kenna and then jumped back. The fight became increasingly difficult. The commanders wanted to determine just what the testees could do. This was just as much a test of focus as it was of swordsmanship. Raina knew the second she had messed up. Against a lesser soldier, it would be nothing, but Fairmont's soldiers spent countless hours studying body movement, and Kenna was the best. She saw Raina adjust her stance and took advantage of that split second of unbalance to knock the blade from Raina's hands and drop her. Kenna poised her sword above Raina's chest.

"Well done," she said.

After the fights ended, the spectators scattered, off to enjoy other events in the city. Each commander made notes on their fights to refer to when making the final decision.

"You were impressive. How did you learn to fight like that?" asked Gabriel.

"Thank you," Kenna said. "My father taught me. He is a martial arts expert."

Gabriel glowered, remembering how upset Kenna had been in Helena. "He is still alive?"

"I haven't heard from him in many years. I left after his hatred towards angels turned our training sessions from 'bonding' time to 'make me into a weapon' time. I don't know where he is." She began to walk away. "Enjoy the rest of the celebration."

The commanders had just begun to discuss the candidates when the door of the war room burst open. A harried soldier rushed in.

"Ma'am, you said to report anything unusual. I have something."

Kenna addressed Commander Contra. "Use the city-wide intercom. Call them." To the soldier, she said, "What have you got?"

"One of our contacts came through. The eight-ball had a hefty price tag, but the information is good. He claims he saw a female angel with white wings flying people from west to east. She made two trips, carrying one person each time. I checked with other contacts further east and they confirm the story."

The door opened again to admit Michael and Gabriel. Their presence filled the room. They wore identical fierce expressions. The soldier eased away from them.

"Do you have a location?" asked Kenna.

The soldier nodded. "Need a map."

Xandar rifled through a filing cabinet and pulled out a topographical map of the United States.

"Perfect," said the soldier. He unfolded it and smoothed it out on the table. "The information becomes sketchy further east, but reports indicate they are somewhere in the Smoky Mountains, most likely in a cave system." He jabbed a finger at the mountain range.

Michael moved to look at the map closer.

"This could be where the Chosen One is," Kenna said.

Michael turned to his brother. "We leave immediately." He left without another word. Gabriel followed.

"Keep working," Kenna told the commanders. She hurried after the Archangels.

Outside, Michael had already taken off, knocking several people over with the force of his wings. Gabriel stayed on the ground and waited for Kenna to catch up.

"Thank you for all you have done," he said when she reached him.

"My pleasure."

"Please thank Mayor Bell for the generosity he and this city have shown us."

"I will. You'll be careful, won't you?" She kept her head down, too embarrassed to look at him.

He tilted her chin up. "Always am."

She snorted. "I doubt that."

Gabriel brushed back her hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. He unfurled his wings to leave. Kenna quickly grabbed him and pulled him to her. Bodies pressed close, she kissed him with a furiousness only he could match, and he did. They parted, breathless.

"Stay safe, little angel," she whispered against his lips.

"You too, little angel." This time he did leave. As much as he wanted to, he didn't look back.

Once the Archangels were lost from sight in the growing night to the east, Kenna returned to the war room. The kiss had been everything she had imagined and more. The taste of him lingered on her lips. She despised that he would soon be in danger. She would much rather chain him to her side, if that was even possible. But, it was his deep affection and unwavering loyalty to Michael along with his strength of character that had attracted her to begin with. Those incredible good looks might have had something to do with it too. Now that Gabriel knew how she felt, she feared what would happen next. She should have kept her feelings hidden.

In the war room, the other commanders were still deep in discussion.

"Xandar," Kenna said.

He looked up from his papers.

"I'll be gone for a few hours. You're in charge until I return."

* * *

Campaigning was no joke. Sgt. Mack was exhausted. He was surprised David Whele had so much energy. He wasn't exactly young. The day had started at dawn with Whele quietly joining a group of former V1s as they rebuilt buildings damaged during the division of Vega. He had lifted beams and hammered nails without a word of complaint. When he saw a child crying with hunger, he handed over his granola bar, the only snack he had brought with him.

At lunch, Whele had passed out meals he had prepared the night before. He cleaned out his kitchen. Sgt. Mack didn't remember seeing so much food at House Whele. He didn't know that Whele had made a midnight trip to the agritower. Several trips actually. With the city still in disarray, no one would know. Any tracking system had gone to the wayside when the lower citizens of Vega had taken the food supply. Whele had walked through Vega, stopping and smiling gently often as he handed out the bags of food.

Then, he had spent the afternoon talking. He asked nearly everyone he crossed what sort of future they saw for Vega. He took notes and asked follow-up questions. He had been sympathetic and polite. The whole day had made Sgt. Mack uneasy. When Whele retired for the evening, Sgt. Mack confronted him.

"What game are you playing, Whele?"

"No game. Just trying to make Vega a better place."

"No, there's something going on. You were moping around for days."

"Alright then. You want to know what's going on? I'll tell you." Whele stood from the chair he was lounging in. "I lost my wife and two children. William was all I had left. Twice, I've sent him to his death, the second time permanently. I was _moping_ because a few days ago, I discovered my son remembered the day we lost our family. The memory tormented him."

Whele's voice had risen to a roar. He took a deep breath to settle himself and continued, calmer now.

"I thought it was my fault he suffered. I didn't set a good example." Whele shook his head. "No. I did set a good example. I showed him how to be strong. I showed him how to demand respect and get it. I showed him all I could to help him survive this wretched world, but he did not learn. Vega will learn what William did not. We will not cower before these angelic beasts anymore. We deserve this land. We deserve to live."

Whele turned away and went back to his seat. He closed his eyes and hummed a tune. Sgt. Mack was appalled. No father should treat his child like that. But isn't that what the Heavenly Father had done? Sgt. Mack wasn't sure what to believe anymore.

General Riesen roamed Vega alone. So much had happened. Sometimes he wanted to give up. He had built Vega for Claire, to protect her. Without her, he thought he wouldn't have a reason to fight anymore. After he buried her, the grief had been overwhelming. But when he had lifted his eyes, he saw parents hugging their unmoving children and children shaking their parents and begging them to get up. He was not alone, and others needed to know they weren't alone either. That would be his reason.

Riesen talked, really talked, with many people. Discussions ranged from food and housing to community building activities, ones that wouldn't involve eight-balls. He also inquired about other places they could expand to. Riesen had reviewed meeting notes from the time of his absence. Gates Foley had made it clear Vega wouldn't last many more years. He would miss his brilliant friend and hated the thought of abandoning the city they built together, but there were few options. Eventually, relocation would be necessary. Riesen ended his day feeling accomplished. He felt like he had connected well with those he spoke with. Inclusion would be his platform.

The man known only as Bookie was standing in front of a seated group in an abandoned warehouse. Each person in attendance had been invited personally by him. He had spent several days silently observing the constituents and his opponents. His conclusion was that Whele was unstable because he hadn't dealt with the results of the toxic relationship with his son and Riesen was a broken man held together by strength of will fast eroding. He could break them, and he would use the voters to do so.

The people he had chosen to hear his first speech were influential. They weren't all well-known, but he had witnessed each person take on a leadership role during rebuilding. Some were exceptionally kind. Others were demanding and headstrong. But, they were all susceptible to the power of language.

"Welcome, and thank you for coming. I apologize for not properly introducing myself earlier. My name is Joe Valeno and I want to give you back your control. Twenty-six years ago, we learned an incredible truth. But, this truth tore asunder all we knew. The ensuing havoc destroyed what we had so carefully constructed."

Bookie stepped into the crowd. He gently touched a few people. Coincidentally, or perhaps not, it was only the exceptionally kind he touched. He stopped in the center of the group and continued talking.

"We can't change what happened, and we shouldn't. The truth can't be denied. However, we can be what we once were. Angels didn't take away our control of ourselves. We gave it away to other humans in the hope they would protect us. We needed that then, but no more. Together, we will rebuild our world until we are strong once again. Together, we will reclaim control of our destiny."

* * *

Michael pushed himself to fly faster than he ever had. He strained his wings, each feather adjusted to maximize speed and agility. Gabriel was hard pressed to keep up. The Smoky Mountains rose ahead of them. The foothills were green with the new growth of spring, but the trees at higher altitudes were still bare. They reached the mountains late at night and searched every cave system, building, and thick clump of bushes they came across until after dawn.

Michael was beginning to despair when he noticed an unusual number of eight-balls within a two mile radius of a rock outcropping. He landed and inspected the outcropping closer. A once narrow fissure had large chucks of rock knocked out, making the fissure wide enough for a person to easily walk through. Michael waved for Gabriel to join him. Together they entered. The fissure wound through the mountain and the air became damp and cool. Moisture coated the rock walls. The deeper they went, the harder Michael's heart pounded. Gabriel pulled him to a halt. He cupped Michael's face in his hands and pressed his forehead to Michael's. Michael met Gabriel's steady gaze and slowed his heart.

"Thanks," Michael murmured.

"Always."

They continued through the dark. They rounded a corner and saw a warm glow ahead. A female's tortured cry echoed back to them. They hurried into a cavern lit by firelight. In a dark pool that mirrored the ceiling was the floating mutilated form of Lucifer. Alex was chained to the rock face across from the pool. Noma was inches in front of him, her face twisted in exquisite agony. Her whole body shook and jerked. Her arm was extended and there was a knife in her hand, pressed to Alex's throat. Noma heard the twin Archangels. With effort, as though she was at war with herself, she turned her head to look at them. Strands of hair stuck to her face. Her eyes were clouded with pain. She mouthed two words.

"Stop me **."**

* * *

 **I hope you're enjoying the story! Any ideas where Kenna is going? How about what Michael and Gabriel are going to do?  
**

 **So, I'm taking a bit of a hiatus. I need some time to write chapters in advance. I promise to get you the next chapter as soon as I can. In the meantime, I'm going to add a chapter (Ch. 10) that isn't a part of the story, but gives a little background info about the new characters and places, like the founding of Fairmont and how Dan ended up in the Mafia. Keep checking back to see what's new! The next story chapter (Ch. 11) will clear up a few things. As always, feedback is appreciated!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi guys! Sorry I've been away for so long. Busy, busy. You know how it is. Stupid real world. Anyway, this chapter isn't part of the story. It's some background on the new characters and places I've introduced thus far. You can skip this chapter if you like. The next chapter (I'll post soon. I promise.) will pick back up where we left off at in chapter 9.**

 **As for this chapter, I might add to it as the story continues. Some of the characters have backstories that are important for what will happen later, so I don't want to spoil anything. Right now, there are three sections. 1) New characters - a very brief description of the physical appearance of some of the new characters. 2) The Founding of Fairmont - exactly what it sounds like. 3) Danilo Terrinetto - Bound - Dan's backstory. Remember chapter 2? This explains it.**

* * *

 **New Characters**

Kenna – Mid to late thirties. 5 feet, 7 inches. Long dark brown hair. Blue eyes. Slender build.

Charles Bell – Mid fifties. 5 feet, 9 inches. Dark blonde hair, going bald. Gray eyes. Solid build with a slight stomach.

Edgar – Mid forties at time of possession. 6 feet, 2 inches. Light brown hair, graying. Brown eyes. Lean build.

Danilo Terrinetto – Late fifties. 6 feet. Buzz cut gray hair. Brown eyes. Solid build.

Bookie – Late fifties. 5 feet, 8 inches. Gray hair. Brown eyes. Slightly overweight.

* * *

 **The Founding of Fairmont**

A light, cool breeze made the tall grasses dance and the leaves rustle. Kenna stopped to gaze up at the sky. Small puffy clouds glowed golden in the rising sun, not yet visible behind the towering mountains. She preferred the mountains. There were fewer people and those that did reside there kept to themselves. Occasionally, she would run into an eight-ball or two, but they were easy enough to destroy. She sat upon a rock outcropping, carefully arranging the swords at her waist so they wouldn't be in the way and dropped her pack at her feet. The metal inside clanged. Her armor and swords were the only things she had from her past, but it was too much to wear all the time.

The peaceful morning was interrupted. Shouts echoed against the rocky landscape. Kenna sighed and stood up. She contemplated just ignoring the sounds, but curiosity drove her to investigate. She slipped silently between trees, drawing closer to the shouts. She stopped inside the tree line and watched the fighting before her. An all-out battle raged. Humans and eight-balls clashed together, pulling and tearing at each other. Though there were more humans, they were losing. They weren't as fast, strong, or agile as the eight-balls.

"Turn around. Turn around and leave," Kenna grumbled to herself.

She sighed and joined the battle. She drew her swords and stepped in just in time to save an older man, about mid-fifties. The man was fit, but the eight-ball he was fighting was heavily muscled. The body must have once belonged to a fighter. Kenna got between the two and faced off with the eight-ball. It bared its teeth at her and she snarled back. It ran at her, knocking the swords from her hands. They tumbled to the ground. Kenna wrapped her legs around the eight-ball and grabbed it in a chokehold. It bucked and squirmed in her grip. She held on tighter, putting more pressure on its throat. She snapped its neck and it went still. Kenna tossed it off of her and got back up. Behind her, the man stared from the ground, astonished. She turned and offered her hand. He accepted and got to his feet. He nodded a silent thanks and stood back-to-back with her.

More and more eight-balls came at them. For several long minutes, Kenna cut down the attackers, never slowing, never tiring. She faced off with another male. This one was tall and lean. His eyes were bright and keen and his light brown hair was streaked with gray. An unkempt beard stubbled his jaw. They circled each other, eyes locked. The eight-ball lunged. Kenna side-stepped and slashed out with a sword. The eight-ball was fast. He dodged, backing up quickly. Kenna narrowed her eyes. She attacked, but something in the eight-ball's gaze made her falter. She paused, studying the person in front of her. He was fighting well, but he was tense and didn't attack with the same ferocity as some of the other eight-balls.

"We don't have to do this. We don't have to fight." Her voice was hushed.

The eight-ball swayed, preparing to jump at her. He took a slow measured step forward.

"You've lost your family, your Father. You've lost your home, but that doesn't mean you can't have a new home. We can't change the past, but we can heal together and build a better future."

Kenna slowly lowered herself and placed her swords on the ground. She kept her gaze on the eight-ball. As she stood, the eight-ball took another step toward her. She held her hands out, palms up, showing she meant no harm. The battle raged around them, but the air between them was silent and pregnant with tension. The eight-ball lifted a foot to take another step forward. He hesitated. His foot hovered just above the ground. Suddenly, he ran at Kenna. His arms wrapped around her and they tumbled to the ground. He gripped her tightly, but instead of trying to throw him of, Kenna held him close and murmured soothingly.

"It's alright. It's alright. You're fine. We are all going to be fine."

Kenna had never seen an eight-ball cry. She kept ahold of him, patting and rubbing his back. Kenna felt someone kneel beside her. The man she had saved earlier was beside her. He reached out a shaking hand, stopping just before touching the eight-ball. He looked at her, confused. She nodded slightly. He placed his hand on the eight-ball's shoulder.

The eight-ball looked up and saw his own thoughts reflected in the expression of the human man. So much violence. So much bloodshed. He had thought it was the only way. The day the seventh seal had been broken and the lower angels released, he had felt fleeting freedom and then a rush of rage. Humans, filthy humans. They were the cause of all the strife the angels had felt. Now that the lower angels were free, they would make the humans pay. They would take their lives. They would take their futures. It had been a rush at first. Now an eight-ball, as the humans called them, he had killed many and could do whatever he wanted. It had been exhilarating. But, after three years, he had begun to realize all the death and destruction was wearing on him. He withdrew and hid for many years until he was approached by a large, intimidating eight-ball. They had teamed up and eventually wound up in the current situation. This woman and man who now comforted him saw something good in him, and it had filled him with such a longing to feel Father's presence, that for the first time, he cried.

Stiff and sore, the eight-ball stood. After the death of their leader, he became the head of the eight-balls. He hollered for them to stand down. Those nearest glanced at him in surprise. The human male yelled for the humans to stop fighting as well. The group of three moved through the fighting, breaking it up. Some retaliated. They were given a chance to leave peaceably, or be killed. Just over half of the eight-ball force left or were killed. Several humans also left and about a dozen fought, despite the warning. Kenna did the killing, grimacing with each blow she dealt. With the battle finally over, the group moved up a slight hill and faced everyone left. Kenna withdrew, standing about three yards away.

"For those of you who don't know me, I am Charles Bell."

"And I am Edgar," the eight-ball said.

They looked at each other, silently agreeing.

Charles spoke again. "It has taken us twenty-four years, but today we learned that war isn't the answer to our struggle. We have a choice, and I believe we must band together and build a new life for ourselves. We have all suffered losses. We don't have to lose anymore. Together, we can protect and help each other. Together, we can become a new family and find what we have lost."

Edgar took a step forward and addressed the crowd. "I agree with Charles. I don't want to fight anymore. This is an opportunity few are granted. We have the chance to prove that angels and humans can coexist, and perhaps that will be the first step in returning our world to what it once was."

Charles and Edgar spent the day talking to their survivors and coming up with a plan. Kenna drifted away, quietly watching. She knew she should leave, but she was intrigued by the kindness she was witnessing. It had been a long time since she had seen genuine compassion. Edgar came up to her.

"You can stay. Without you, this might not have been possible. You're a part of our family now."

Kenna swallowed around the lump in her throat. "Thank you," she whispered.

* * *

 **Danilo Terrinetto – Bound**

 _Age: 13_

Danilo Terrinetto grasped his mother's frail hand. Her thin, bony body shivered under the layer of blankets. She smiled weakly at him and sighed, closing her eyes. Dan kissed her forehead and left her to sleep.

He rummaged through the kitchen cabinets. In the back, he found a small bag of crackers. He opened them as quietly as he could and ate half of them. He folded up the bag and put them back in the cabinet. It was all the food he could afford to eat that night. What they had needed to last through the week. He slipped out of the house, careful to avoid the holes in the floor. His mother wouldn't be able to help him this time if he got his leg stuck.

Once outside, he dashed through the streets. Within minutes, he stood in front of a gate. A burly man came out of the guardhouse on the other side of the gate.

"What do you want, boy?"

Dan straightened his spine and met the man's glare, speaking confidently. "I have a proposition for your employer."

"Get out of here, kid. You don't know what you are getting into."

The guard shooed at Dan. Dan glared at him and opened his mouth.

"Get, boy!" the guard said.

A smooth, velvety voice with a light Italian accent drifted from the shadows. "Ah, what have we hear?"

A man with a slightly rounded belly and dressed in an expensive tailored suit walked toward them. Dan smiled politely and gave a little bow.

"Sir, I'd like to make a proposition to you. I think you'll find it worth a moment of your time."

The newcomer chuckled. "Why don't you come inside?"

The guard let Dan in through the gate and watched him suspiciously as he followed the man in the suit toward the house.

"My name is Maurice Velmaz. You look hungry. How about a meal?"

"Thank you. I would appreciate that," Dan said.

A moment later, Dan sat at a mahogany table eating a bowl of stew. Once finished, he pushed his bowl out of the way and mirrored the relaxed position of Maurice across from him. Maurice watched him with curiosity. Dan took a deep breath and plunged in.

"Senior Velmaz, I would like to offer you my services, for a small price of course."

Maurice raised an eyebrow. This child was amusing. He spoke and acted like someone much older, but the naivety of youth still clung to him.

"What services can you offer me?" he asked, indulging the boy.

"First, I think it would be better to tell you my price. If it is not possible, I don't want to waste any more of your time. My mother is very ill. Cancer. She needs help."

"That can be arranged, if you are worth it."

"Sir, having a child on your side could be very useful. We are irresistibly adorable." He smiled sweetly.

"If I take you in, you will be in my service until I say otherwise. You will do as I ask, without question."

"I will stay in your service until my mother is gone," Dan said fiercely.

Maurice chuckled again. The kid was growing on him.

 _Age: 15_

"Come on, mom. They'll be here to pick us up any minute."

"Sweetheart, who is picking us up?"

Dan's mother tottered through their small house, clutching to each piece of furniture she passed. She was doing much better, now that she had been on medicine for the past two years. But, her condition had progressed too far. They were moving to Maurice's estate, where a specialist was going to be available at all times to care for her. Dan couldn't keep his secret any longer. She was going to be furious.

Once settled in her new room, Dan's mother made her feelings clear.

"What were you thinking? Did you really think I would want you to do something like this for me? I would rather be dead than have you be indebted to these people. Seriously, Dan. This was foolish."

Dan squared his shoulders. "What about me, mom? I need you. I can't survive without you."

Tears slid down his cheeks. His mom's expression softened.

"Oh, honey. I'm sorry I yelled. I love you sweetie."

"I love you too, mom."

 _Age: 17_

Dan huddled down in the driver's seat of the van. Tonight was the first time he had ever gone out on assignment. He shifted nervously. It was a routine assignment. Well, routine for the mafia. The rest of the crew was inside, convincing a young officer that he really was better off not visiting their establishments. The cop had been scaring off customers, and Maurice didn't like that.

Dan heard a yelp from inside. A little girl screamed. It was the officer's daughter, only five years old. Dan shuddered. He hated this. There was more yelling and a gunshot. Forty seconds later, one of Dan's crew mates stumbled out of the house. He struggled to the van and pulled open the side door. As it slid open, Dan craned his neck around to see the other man. He held a hand to his side, blood seeping from between his fingers. Dan cursed.

"What happened?"

"Pig had backup. The girl's scream was the cue. Start the van. Get us out of here."

"What about the others. We can't leave them."

"The Hell we can. Start the damn car."

The man pulled out a gun and pointed it at Dan. Dan scowled and tossed the keys over his shoulder to the other man.

"Do what you want."

He jumped out of the van and hurried inside. He crept through the house, pulling out his own gun as he moved. Two cops stepped out of a room ahead of him. Dan didn't hesitate. He didn't flinch. The men dropped to the ground, a bullet having ripped through their hearts. Dan kept going. Crashes and grunts led him to the living room. The little girl had disappeared, probably to hide with her mother. In the middle of the living room, five men wrestled on the floor. Three were cops, including the one they were here to see. The other two men were part of Dan's crew. He jumped into the fight with two cops. He clocked one on the temple and the cop collapsed, eyes screwed up in pain. Dan wrapped an arm around the neck of the other cop from behind and squeezed. The cop stood awkwardly and slammed backward into the floor, trying to dislodge Dan. His crew mates were busy with the other two cops. Neither noticed Dan's struggle. His cop kept throwing himself backward. Dan was getting dizzy from hitting his head so many times on the floor, wall and an end table. He reached his free hand to his hip and fumbled with the clasp over his knife. Finally getting it free, he plunged it into the gut of the cop. He pulled it out. It made a sickening squelching sound. Dan's stomach turned. There was no going back now. He drove the knife into the cop again and again. Blood spilled over his hand and the handle of the knife slippery. He closed his eyes and squeezed the cop's throat as hard as he could. The cop struggled a few seconds more, gurgled, and then fell still.

Dan released him and looked around for his crew. Both of his men were fine and were watching him.

"Come on. We need to get out of here," he said.

He led them back out to where the van was parked. It was gone.

"Damnit. Should've known."

Dan scanned around, searching for some way to escape. They were just a couple blocks from a bad neighborhood. Cars disappeared there all the time. He took off at a brisk walk. He didn't want to raise suspicion if anyone was looking out their windows. It was dark, but he didn't want to take any chances. They reached the bad neighborhood and speed up to a jog. Dan kept his eyes open and peered around. Seeing a nondescript car, he raced towards it. As he hoped, it was unlocked. Dan opened the door and quickly searched for keys. They were in the glove compartment. The only reason to leave keys in a car around here was if no one would steal it. That probably meant it was loaded with drugs. Dan wasn't worried. Maurice would have something to say about dealers in his territory. Dan motioned for the others to get in. He cranked the car and tore out of the stony driveway.

Maurice was waiting for them when they arrived.

"You handled yourselves well," he said.

The three men nodded and began to head inside. Maurice reached out to grab Dan's shoulder and stop him.

"The doctor needs to speak to you."

 _Age: 23_

Dan rubbed at his tired eyes. Six years. He had spent six years after his mother died trying to figure out how he could escape the mafia's grip. He had stolen and killed for them. He had put himself in danger countless times. Today, he was making his escape. He had hid information all over the country. He had prepared for it to be released upon his death. It was enough information to put away Maurice and the family for good. Dan also made sure to provide a way to get to them. The mafia could chase him, but he had made sure he was several steps ahead.

A week later, he was in Las Vegas. Since he couldn't exactly put mafia hitman on his resume, he started at the bottom. By the time he was thirty, he headed security for three casinos. He never did have any friends or a relationship. That was leverage the mafia could use against him, if they ever caught him. It was a lonely life, but it was a safe life.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi all! I'm finally back. This chapter continues where chapter 9 ended. Remember, chapter 10 was like an intermission. It was just some background info (but I hope you still enjoyed it!) Quick recap, Noma took Alex to Lucifer. Michael and Gabriel have been searching for them. They finally find them and it's not looking good. Noma is about to kill Alex.**

* * *

"Lost Savior"

"Stop me."

Immeasurable pain racked her body. Her blood boiled. She strained against herself, desperate to escape. Her mind reeled with thoughts and images, her own but not summoned by her. She relived the horror of Father's disappearance, the moment she killed Alex's mother and stole him away, her sword poised above the infant, and every moment she had shared with Alex since then. She focused her energy and formed mental barriers around the one thought she must keep safe. He would know soon enough, but not before she completed her mission.

Michael observed the terrible sight in front of him. In just one second, though it felt like many lifetimes, he knew what was happening. The Son of Morning had possessed Noma and was forcing her to kill Alex. She had a knife pressed to his throat and held him against the cave wall with her other hand. Alex had flicked his eyes at the Archangels when they entered, but now he was focused on Noma. How long she had resisted, Michael didn't know, but the tremors shaking her body and the pain in her eyes made one thing clear. She couldn't hold on any longer.

The bond between the twins cackled with power, connecting them on a level that ran deeper than love. Gabriel instinctively knew what Michael wanted him to do, and he knew Michael would never ask it of him. To confront Lucifer alone was akin to suicide. Yet Gabriel would do it anyway. For the one who completed his soul, there was no task too great. He slipped into a meditative state and allowed his mind to drift along the edge of consciousness. He focused on Noma. The seconds ticked by, but he couldn't connect with her. He gritted his teeth, realizing he would have to search for the cord that would take him to Lucifer. It was nearly instantaneous. There it was, a shimmering cord of brilliant colors under a shroud of shadow. There was a faint outline of another cord within it, Noma's, pushing to the surface. Even through the shadow, Noma's cord shown a bright light blue. Gabriel faltered. Such a color indicated spiritual purity, not a trait typically associated with a traitor. Gabriel sent out his cord and made the connection. For a split second, nothing changed. Then, an immense power was thrust against him. Gabriel pushed back against his elder brother.

Noma let out a strangled cry and crumpled to the cold stone ground. She writhed in agony. The physical pain had been excruciating, but the mental abuse was pure anguish. She dug her nails into her skin, drawing blood. Noma wailed, her shrill cry tearing at her throat and echoing wildly through the halls and passages of the cave system. Her heart pounded in her chest and blood rushed through her veins. Never had she been as acutely aware of her gift of life as in the moment before death. She had been strong for so long, but her strength was spent. She couldn't resist Lucifer and she couldn't help Gabriel. Two Archangels in her mind was just too much. All she had to do was let go, dissolve her mental barriers, and let the power of the two magnificent beings erase her. She wouldn't complete her mission, but it had been a long shot from the start. Death had always been the likely outcome. Inside her, war raged on. She shuddered, preparing to let go. A sudden wave of strength flowed through her. She felt Gabriel's plea to hold on just a little longer. As mad as he had to be at her, he wasn't abandoning her. She threw all she had against Lucifer.

Michael moved swiftly. As soon as Noma fell to the ground, he dashed in. He ripped the chains holding Alex from the wall and caught him as he slid to the ground, head lolling to the side and eyes slitted, barely conscious. Blood trickled from a cut above his left eye. There were scrapes and bruises scattered along his thin frame. Michael heard a thump behind him and turned, still clutching Alex. Gabriel had collapsed to his knees. Michael left Alex leaning against the wall and drew a sword. It was time he finished what he had started all those centuries ago. He would not show mercy again. He waded into the still, dark pool. His ripples disturbed the mirror reflection of the roof of stalactites. He stopped beside his elder brother. He poised his sword high in the air, the sharp tip forming a perfect line to Lucifer's heart. Michael would have to destroy the body beyond any hope of repair. It's what he should have done before. With a final steadying breath, he plunged his sword down. Before the blade made contact, Alex grunted with pain. Michael spun around and threw his sword like a spear, pinning an eight-ball. More flooded the room. Michael ran back to Alex and Gabriel. He unsheathed his other sword and cut down the attackers, moving lithely in the tight space. Once he had cleared the immediate vicinity, he grabbed Alex and Gabriel and began pulling them from the room.

A tired sigh escaped Gabriel. The battle of minds had ended, but there was no clear victor. He had fared better than he hoped, but the burning rage in Lucifer had scorched him, left him feeling withered and guilty.

"You can let go, Michael," he said gently.

Michael stopped and released him. They smiled tiredly at each other, glad they were both unharmed. Ahead of them, eight-balls snarled, blocking the way out. They were only a few steps from the cave room. They looked back, searching for another way. Noma was still lying on the ground, shaking. Her dark hair pooled around her. She reached for them, eyes pleading.

"We can't leave her," Gabriel said.

"Fine."

While Gabriel went back for Noma, Michael surveyed the eight-balls blocking their path. He hoisted Alex over his shoulder. They would have to fight their way out. Michael pushed forward. Gabriel was closed behind, carrying Noma. Michael plunged into the mass of bodies. He shoved the eight-balls aside, banging their heads into the wet rock. Some got close enough to land hits, but Michael hardly felt them. Even handicapped by Alex, he still blocked attacks and took out his opponents. Behind him, Gabriel eliminated those he had shoved aside. Once outside, they immediately flew away.

The midday sun was bright and threw their shadows in sharp relief as they sped above the budding forest. Once the mountains were nothing more than a distant haze, they landed. Michael carefully set Alex down. Gabriel, on the other hand, dumped Noma in the dirt. She groaned and curled in on herself, still aching. Gabriel yanked her to a sitting position. She met their furious glares. Michael slashed at her, his sword a blur of silver. A line of blood dripped down her cheek. She held up a hand.

"Please, wait." Her voice was a cracked whisper. Her throat was raw from her screams. "Hear me out."

"Traitors have no right to be heard." Michael's voice was ice. He moved closer to Noma. "Hold her," he told Gabriel.

Gabriel paused. Why had she fought against Lucifer? Why had her cord, a direct connection to her soul, shown purity?

"What are you waiting for?" snapped Michael.

"We are missing something."

"Yes, just let me explain," began Noma.

Michael wrapped a hand around her neck, lifted her, and tossed her several feet. Fury flashed in his eyes.

"She betrayed us, exactly like you said she would. There is nothing more to know. Hold her."

Gabriel complied. Michael pressed his sword to Noma's throat.

"You disappoint me."

He made to kill her, but his hand stayed. He closed his eyes and sucked in a startled gasp. Light and love washed through him, filling him with peace.

"Father," he breathed.

He looked at Gabriel and saw tears in his brother's eyes. He had felt it too. The feeling had been fleeting, but the meaning undeniable. Noma struggled to her feet.

"Will you hear me out now?"

Michael nodded slowly. They took shelter from the sun under a cluster of pine trees. A cool, light breeze blew away the tension between the three angels. Alex, however, glared at Noma. She stared at the ground as she spoke.

"When darkness consumed Vega, a voice spoke to me. It was gentle and soothing, full of compassion and understanding. After the amphora was destroyed, the voice made me an offer. Bring the Chosen One to the Fallen and I would have wings once more. It was an enticing offer, but I didn't decide quickly.

"Alex and I were on our way to confront General Riesen when another voice spoke to me. It presented me with a task of immense proportions. Take Alex to him and uncover his plan. That voice, I would know it anywhere. It was him. It was Father."

Silent tears slid down Noma's face, mingling with the blood from the cut.

"His instructions were clear. Accept Lucifer's deal. Protect Alex at all costs. Don't tell anyone what I was really doing, especially you two. If you knew the truth and tried to help, the plan would collapse. Lucifer would never believe either of you would willingly join him. It had to be me. I was already broken. I had nothing more to lose."

Noma buried her face in her hands, the tears now flowing freely.

"I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you, but the risk was too great."

Michael moved to Noma's side. "I am so proud of you."

Gabriel came to her other side. "When we arrived, what was happening?"

"Lucifer had been showing Alex visions of what could have been, and what might be. But, Alex kept finding a way to escape, though at the time, he may not have known it. When Lucifer realized his initial plan to lull Alex into compliance wasn't working, he tried a new tactic. He described his creation and fall. It was a powerful story. I wasn't there when he told Alex, but he told it to me later. Everything he said was true, but it was a truth different from what I knew. After he shared his history, he told Alex what he wanted, needed. The Chosen One would heal the Fallen. I thought Alex would consent, would sacrifice himself in Lucifer's name, and I prepared to take him away. But he didn't. Lucifer became impatient. He searched Alex's mind for a weakness, something he could exploit. What he found was love."

Noma turned her gaze to Alex. Adoration filled her features. It wasn't returned. Confusion flickered across her face before she continued.

"Despite all that had happened, some part of Alex still cared deeply for me. Lucifer used it as leverage. He possessed me and threatened to have me end my own life in front of Alex unless he agreed to die to heal Lucifer. Still, Alex did not give in. When you arrived, Lucifer had switched tactics again. He would ensure Alex's death, either through sacrifice or murder. He would force me to kill him. He figured Alex wouldn't want me to suffer knowing I had killed him and would thus agree to the sacrifice. Either way, he would die."

The group sat quietly, digesting what Noma had said. Alex spoke first, bitterness lacing his words.

"Is it true? Did you kill my mother?"

Noma grimaced. She knew Lucifer had seen that moment in her memories, but had hoped he wouldn't share it.

"Yes."

Alex jumped to his feet and paced in a circle. Gabriel tried to defend Noma, but she nudged him to stay quiet. She may have killed the woman on his orders, but it had been her decision. She would deal with the fallout. She got up at went to Alex. She gripped his arms.

"Yes, I killed your mother. I thought your death would bring Father back and she was in the way. I was wrong and I am sorry. I can't change your past, Alex. I can only protect your future."

Alex glared at her. Her words fell on deaf ears. They did nothing to quell his anger. He stalked away. Michael attempted to follow, but Noma stopped him.

"Give him some space. He has a lot to work through."

"And you?" asked Michael.

"I'll be gone for a while," she said, skirting the question. She had a lot to work through too, but now wasn't the time. "It's better that way, at least for now. I won't return unless Alex asks me to."

Michael nodded and took a step back so Noma could unfurl her wings unhindered.

"I'll stay in touch." Noma launched herself into the sky. The light of the setting sun lit her wings afire.

Alex paced irritably. How much more would he have to give? He had lost his mother, father, childhood, lover, and child. Why should anyone, why should humanity, be entitled to what is his? Now it was his life, his future, others wanted. Well, they couldn't have it. He'd had enough of others controlling his fate. Now it was his turn and he would not relinquish control again.

Alex trekked back to the Archangels. He weaved between trees, surprised by how far he had walked. He had been so angry, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. When he reached the others, he sighed in relief, glad Noma was gone. She had done nothing but hurt him. Alex planted himself in front of Michael and channeled all the authority he could into his voice.

"I'm staying here for the night. In the morning, I'll head for Vega."

He walked away and settled himself against a tree a couple yards away. He wanted space, but his training demanded he not go far. If they were attacked, better they were together.

They took shifts guarding throughout the night. All was quiet. Alex woke to the smell of cooking meat. A fire flickered nearby. He stood and stretched, working out the kinks from sleeping on the ground. He crouched beside the fire and warmed his hands. The air was damp and cool. Dew on the leaves and grass sparkled in the early dawn light. Mist was suspended above the ground. Alex suspected Michael had gathered the wood for the fire during the night. It was probably why Alex wasn't as cold as he should have been. Michael always planned ahead like that.

Alex plucked the meat from the fire and nibbled on it. He stared into the flames and let his mind drift over the drastic changes his life had taken the day Jeep died. None of this would have happened if the angels hadn't of left Heaven, and they wouldn't have left if God hadn't abandoned them. Maybe Lucifer had a point after all, not that Alex intended to switch sides. He did feel like he was finally beginning to see the situation for what it was: a divine mess. These powerful beings were having family problems and Alex the human was their psychologist. Bit of a poor choice really, given the state of his family. Alex shook his head. Dwelling on his misfortune wouldn't change it.

Across from Alex, Michael appeared between the trees. He crouched on the other side of the fire.

"I'm sorry, Alex. I failed you yet again."

Alex grunted.

"I should have been with you. Each time I entrust your care to another, you have been hurt."

Alex glared at him. "I don't need a babysitter, Michael. I can take care of myself." He got to his feet. "I'm going back to Vega. Do what you want."

Michael watched Alex's retreating figure sadly. The young man was not himself. His time in Lucifer's clutches had affected him deeply, and Michael blamed himself for that. He put out the fire and followed Alex. Gabriel was scouting but would catch up quickly.

Alex led them through the desolate land at a reckless pace. The Archangels weren't in danger, but Alex was pushing himself too hard. He was still weak and should have been conserving energy and moving cautiously. Instead, he would randomly break out in a run or jump distances at the edge of his reach or take them through difficult areas. Michael never took his eyes off Alex. Likewise, Gabriel kept a watchful eye on their surroundings.

When they finally hit a road, some of the tension left Michael. They were on a highway. Abandoned vehicles littered the lanes. Alex scoured a few vehicles. When he found one that still had the keys in the ignition, he got in. After two false starts, the truck roared to life. Michael took the passenger seat and Gabriel in the back. Alex couldn't help but notice how seamlessly the two Archangels worked together. They didn't need to communicate. They moved like one entity, shifting in sync with each other. Alex didn't bother questioning why Gabriel was with them. He still trusted Michael, even if things were a bit off between them. Alex knew he was being rude, but he couldn't seem to stop. As they sped down the highway, his emotions whirled around him as quickly as the landscape outside the truck slid past.

They drove for two and a half hours in complete silence before they ran out of gas. Alex grunted as the truck spluttered to a stop. They were on a long straight stretch and the nearest car was only a faint glimmer a mile away. Alex opened his door and dropped his feet to the ground. The impact shook through him. He grabbed the door to steady himself. Already, Michael was beside him, tottering between giving Alex the space he wanted or the help he needed. Alex gave him a tired smile. It was all the reassurance he could muster. He pushed off the truck and began the mile long walk. He was slower this time, realizing he needed to be careful not to tax himself. Behind him, the other two followed.

Michael clenched, opened, clenched, opened his hands. He didn't know what to do about Alex. He wanted to help him, but didn't know how. A frown turned down his mouth. He felt Gabriel nudge him and looked over at his twin. Gabriel's calm demeanor and compassionate expression soothed Michael. Normally, Michael was the calm one. In some ways, it felt good to not be in control and let his emotions show. Like always, the twins balanced in each other. Michael hadn't realized how much he had missed his brother for the past twenty-six years until they were together again. Even with the turmoil, he felt complete.

Ahead of them, Alex suddenly crouched. A trio of eight-balls had walked out of the woods and was crossing the road. They paused when they saw Alex and the two Archangels, curious. They quickly lurched towards them. Alex held back, letting Michael, who had already sprung forward, deal with the attack. One of the eight-balls slipped past. It was faster than the others. It leapt for Alex. Gabriel tried to intercept, but stopped when Alex held up a hand. Alex wrestled the eight-ball to the ground and locked his arms and legs around it. He began to chant the eviction.

Gabriel watched in awe as the tattoos swirled about Alex's arms and across the skin of the eight-ball. Though he knew Alex could do this and had experienced it, seeing it happen was incredible. He looked to Michael for confirmation. Michael nodded and turned back to Alex, eyes alight with pride.

Alex furrowed his brow. He spit the words of the eviction out between clenched teeth. The tattoos swirling on his skin itched and burned as they clawed their way to the eight-ball. Every eviction left him with a bone-deep ache, but this one was exceptionally tiring. He gripped the squirming eight-ball tighter and focused harder, drawing on his frustration and anger for strength. The eight-ball made an odd rasping in its throat and then let loose a piercing shriek. It went limp in Alex's grip. The soul of the lower angel trickled out of the body and hung lamely above its former host. Alex eyed it cautiously. It drifted about aimlessly, becoming more and more transparent. Deciding it wasn't much of a threat, Alex returned his gaze to the body in his arms. He shook it lightly.

"Come on. Time to wake up," he muttered softly.

He shook the body harder and studied the eyelids, watching for any movement.

"He's not waking up. Why won't he wake up?"

Alex looked to Michael, hoping his mentor would have an answer as to why this eviction hadn't brought back the human soul like with Pete.

Michael heard Alex, but was too preoccupied to answer. He didn't know what to say anyway. The light that was the soul of the lower angel was dimming. Then, when it was too faint to be seen except by the keen eyesight of higher angels, it disappeared completely.

"Impossible," said Michael.

"It's gone, destroyed. It isn't in the Ether," said Gabriel.

Alex let go of the body and stood, moving until he was in front of Michael.

"What's going on? What's wrong?" His voice edged into panic.

Michael was still staring at the spot the soul had disappeared. "The lower angel. Its soul is completely gone, erased from existence."

Alex was numb. That wasn't how an eviction worked. Destroying souls wasn't part of the plan. Taking away someone's eternity wasn't a responsibility Alex wanted. Still, he could handle it if Michael was there to help him. Finally, Michael met Alex's confused gaze. Michael's face made Alex's heart shatter. It was just like when he had found him in New Delphi, only a thousand times worse. Michael's face was contorted in fear, and maybe just a hint of repulsion.

Alex stumbled back. He glanced down at his forearms, tracing the lines of his tattoos. What had he done wrong? He looked back at Michael. Seeing his expression hadn't changed, hadn't been a trick of the light, Alex turned and ran.

"Alex," cried Michael.

The Chosen One kept running. Michael tried to follow, but was held back by a strong grip on his arm.

"Give him time. He'll be alright."

"How do you know?" asked Michael, voice distraught.

"Because you raised him to be strong, like you."

"Don't you see, Gabriel?" Michael gestured to the dead human. "If he doesn't save us, he destroys us."

* * *

Dan waited patiently in the empty warehouse. A door banged behind him. He spun around.

"Hello, Danilo."

"Hello, Bookie. Don't suppose you'll tell me your real name?"

The other man smiled. It wasn't overtly malicious, but it still made Dan shiver.

"Not a chance."

"What are you doing, Bookie? What game are you playing?"

"No game. I'm doing what is best."

"Do you really think you will win the election?"

"I know I will. It is inevitable."

Dan didn't like the sound of that. Confident mobsters were confident for a reason. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

"You know I always have an Ace up my sleeve. Have I ever lost before?"

"Before we were on the same side."

"Aren't we still?" Bookie's unnerving smile was still in place.

"I'm not sure. You're crafty, Bookie. I haven't forgotten."

"As are you, Graveman. I haven't forgotten either." Bookie ran a finger along a scar on his neck that disappeared beneath his dark red silk shirt. "I should have died that day. You saved me. You made it past all the guards and traps, a seemingly impossible feat. I know better than to underestimate you."

Bookie turned and left. Dan watched him leave and ran a hand over his buzz cut gray hair. He headed to the barracks to meet up with Sgt. Mack. The sergeant had really stepped up in the past few weeks. Today he was training a new batch of soldiers. Many survivors had been inspired to take up arms after the attack on Vega. Most lacked skill, but made up for it with determination. Dan waited while Sgt. Mack instructed his group to conduct a set of exercises. Once finished, he joined Dan.

"They're really not terrible. I swear," said Sgt. Mack.

"You've done good work with them."

"How did the meeting go?"

"As expected. He didn't say much. We'll have to keep a close eye on him. How's the guard detail?"

"Whele means business. I didn't understand his plan at first, but now I get it. He's winning them over, slowly, one person at a time, but I see it happening. Riesen better have something spectacular planned."

"I hope so," said Dan.

In House Riesen, General Riesen was pouring over every piece of information he could find. Stacks of papers were on every surface. Maps were spread across the glass dining room table. Some areas were marked with an "X" and had scribbled notes sprawled to the side. General Riesen sat at the table, cross-referencing a road map to a topographical map. The infrastructure of Vega would soon collapse and a relocation plan needed to be in place by then. They needed somewhere defensible but accessible, hence the cross-referencing. He was looking for somewhere with a difficult-to-traverse landscape but with a road for access.

A knock rattled the door. Riesen stuffed the maps and notes in an almanac and dropped it in a desk drawer. The door opened just as he closed the drawer.

"Edward, how goes the campaign?"

General Riesen surveyed Whele. He looked energized. Vigor flushed his cheeks. All his loss and he still bounced back. Riesen, once a proud man, felt tired and drab in comparison.

"Good. Numbers are where I expect them to be. You?"

"Swell. Better watch out. Your reign may soon be over."

"It should have never been a reign. Vega needs a leader, not a dictator. Be careful, Whele. The people may love you now, but we both know it never lasts."

"Don't you worry, old friend. This will be the best election in twenty odd years," Whele said with a wink. He scanned the stacks of papers and the hastily shut drawer. The corner of a sheet stuck out. Whele nodded in farewell and left.

Once he was alone again, Riesen rubbed his forehead. He didn't feel like Whele was the right leader for Vega, but he wasn't sure he could keep up.

* * *

 **Surprised? What can I say? I was feeling the Noma love. Honestly, I'm really nervous about what you think of this chapter, both Noma's story and the first signs of the darker side of the Chosen One. And does it make sense that God doesn't know exactly what Lucifer is planning? I realize God is usually described as all-knowing, but I figured if anyone could circumvent the omnipotent creator, it would be Luc. Plausible or not?**

 **As for you Michael fans, it has been pointed out to me that I've made him a bit flippant. In review, I agree. Eventually, I'll revise past chapters to make him more stoic. The story line won't change though.**


	12. Chapter 12

"Decisions"

Alex ran for as long as his legs could carry him. He stopped at the outskirts of an abandoned town and collapsed onto the sinking porch of a derelict house. Dusk settled around him. He hadn't seen the others since he ran from them, but he suspected they were close, watching him. After a couple of minutes, Alex pulled himself back to his feet. He shuffled into the house, searching every room for danger. Once he determined he was relatively safe, he curled up on the brown couch. Alex wrinkled his nose against the smell. Dust, displaced by his body, swirled around him. Images flashed behind his closed eyelids: Jeep dying, Michael leaving him in Vega, Noma sacrificing her wings, Noma pressing a knife to his throat, Noma looking at him with love, and always the expression of repulsion on Michael's face. Deep, rich laughter filled Alex's head. His eyes flew open and he jolted up, breathing heavy and skin slick with sweat. He scanned the room. He was alone, but the laughter lingered, like an echo rattling about the hollow spaces of his soul. He got up and walked to the window. Stars were scattered across the inky black sky, void of moonlight. Alex could swear he saw starlight flickering as though something had blocked the light. He shivered and lay back down.

Michael sat where Alex had on the porch. He had been there since the young man had fallen asleep. He wanted to be in the same room as Alex, able to see him and comfort him, but he held back. As loathe as he was to admit it, Gabriel was right. Alex needed time. He needed to understand what had happened and why on his own. This was a part of his journey as the Chosen One, and he had to accept or reject it on his own. Still, it was hard for Michael to stay out of sight.

Inside, Alex groaned. He had been shifting restlessly for several minutes. The couch creaked as he got up. As his footfalls drew closer, Michael slid back into the shadows. Alex's pale, thin face filled the window. Michael studied him. Deep purple circles ringed his tired eyes. His cheeks weren't as full as they once were and his hair was unkempt. Though his appearance bothered Michael, it was the invisible signs that worried him the most. What happened on the highway was a warning. The path of the Chosen One was diverging. He was wavering, caught between acceptance and resentment. Michael hoped he had prepared Alex, not just for his role as the Chosen One, but also as a man. Michael had never considered himself the paternal type, but with this one human, his heart trumped his logic. In the window, Alex stared at the night sky. Michael looked up too and saw Noma soaring high above. She had never really left. Instead, she stayed just out of sight but still able to quickly join them should something go awry.

The next morning, Alex sat on the floor in front of the couch, meditating. He focused on his breath, like Michael had taught him, and let the tattoos speak to him. A vision filled his mind. He was alone, walking eastward. Instinctively, he knew Michael wasn't anywhere near. For the first time in his life, he was truly alone. His steps faltered. Loneliness engulfed him, suffocating him. The feeling was fleeting. A sense of purpose drove him forward. He had a task to complete. No one else understood. He had to do it alone. He walked for hours, the sun of an endless day illuminating the land. There was no heat, wind, or sound. A small town appeared on the horizon. Alex maintained his pace. As he approached, a dark-skinned man who looked more like he belonged in the old west than the apocalypse greeted him.

"Alex Lannon, I've been looking forward to meeting you."

Alex didn't respond or even acknowledge the man. The man's Cheshire smile slipped into a confused frown. As Alex passed him, still walking at the same speed, he reached out and trailed a finger on the man's left cheek. The man fell to the ground, death instantly claiming him. Alex did not turn around at the thud.

Alex gasped, breaking from his meditation. He rubbed his arms and gulped in shaky breaths. Staring blankly at the wall across from him, he began to memorize every detail of his vision. He was horrified, unable to imagine destroying someone so emotionlessly. Though he was a soldier, he still felt a twinge of guilt when he had to kill. As he neared the final details, his tattoos warmed. He jumped to his feet. This was only one path his future could take. He was in charge of his destiny now. The sense of purpose from the vision came back to him. He liked that feeling. He didn't want to stumble in the dark anymore, always relying on Michael to show him the way. He would make his own way.

Alex stayed near the house all day. He checked out the nearby houses and convenience store. He found clothes in his size, still neatly folded and stacked on a bed, waiting to be put away, in one house. In the next one, he found a black backpack. He loaded it with supplies, mostly food. He did find a couple pocketknives and placed one in his pants pocket and the other in an outer zippered pocket of the backpack. The convenience store had already been ransacked, but he found a few boxes of crackers, bottled water, and canned fruits and vegetables in storage. No one ever thought to check there.

Just before dusk, he returned to the house he had spent the night in. Michael stood on the porch. Alex slid past him wordlessly. He dumped out the contents of the backpack on the couch. Michael followed him in and watched silently as Alex sorted through his haul.

"Alex, we need to talk." Michael's voice left no room for argument.

Alex ignored him.

"Please." Michael had moved closer, right behind Alex.

Alex finished sorting and repacking and put the backpack on the floor. He sat heavily and patted the spot beside him. The couch sank as Michael sat. He patiently watched Alex, waiting for him to speak.

"I don't know what changed," Alex said.

"Your gift, Father's word, is two-fold," said Michael.

"It's not a gift, Michael." Alex was seething. "It is a chain and a whip. It holds me in place and lashes into me at every opportunity."

"I know this is difficult, but you're not alone. I'll help you." Michael put a hand on Alex's shoulder. "What's with the backpack?"

"Gotta eat, don't I?" Alex took a steadying breath. "I've always depended on you, even before I knew who you were. I have to figure out what I can do on my own, who I am without the markings, before I can really be the Chosen One." Alex met Michael's gaze. "I need some space. I'll call you when I'm ready."

Michael searched Alex's face. Several seconds passed in silence. He nodded and got up. "I won't be far," he said gently.

Once Michael had taken off, Alex grabbed the backpack, secured the heavy load on his back, and rushed to the backdoor. Michael would want to talk to the others, but that still left only minutes for Alex to put his plan in action. He opened the door a crack and peered out. He searched the sky carefully. Determining it was clear, he darted outside. He backtracked, heading west. He dashed between buildings and vehicles, eyes always trained on the stars. The straps of the backpack cut into his shoulders and the contents inside jostled around. He kept running. He was fairly certain Michael wouldn't check on him until morning, but if he was spotted running away, he wouldn't have a chance.

Alex ran until his legs felt like rubber and his lungs burned. He was about five miles from the town. If the other three knew he was gone, they would find him in minutes. He had stayed on the road mostly, despite the lack of cover. He had remembered seeing vehicles on their way in. He jumped into the nearest one, threw his bag onto the passenger seat, and ripped open the cover under the steering wheel. He fiddled around with the wires for several seconds before the beige car roared to life. He rammed his foot on the gas pedal and the car launched forward. He kept the pedal pressed all the way down. He yanked the wheel left and right, narrowly avoiding the other abandoned vehicles. He didn't slow until he saw an exit for another town. Alex veered left. He drove through the town and followed roads into a rural area. The car screeched to a halt. Alex grabbed the backpack and faced the dark expanse of trees. His forehead creased. He could still go back. He had meant what he said about needing space. He knew they would leave him be if he went back, but they would still be close. If Alex got into trouble, they would be there to help. He shook his head. He had to be completely on his own. Alex turned eastward. He wasn't sure if he was going to Vega or the town from his vision. Either way, the decision was his.

* * *

Kenna paced irritably from one end of the war room to the other, spinning around sharply when she reached the wall. It had only been a couple minutes since her radio had buzzed and she had been informed of the arrival of one of their informant eight-balls. Kenna heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. She stopped pacing and sat at the table. She ran her fingers through her hair, dispelling any tangles or flyaways. When the door opened, she looked poised and completely at ease. The female eight-ball stumbled into the room. She jumped when one of her escorts touched her to remove her blindfold.

"Welcome," Kenna said. "Please, have a seat." She gestured to a chair across from her.

The eight-ball sat and glared at Kenna. Her mouse brown hair hung lank around her sullen face.

"I apologize for the blindfold. Security is of the utmost importance. You understand. We will begin as soon as the others arrive," said Kenna.

Just as she finished speaking, the door opened again and the rest of the council and commanders filed in. Rodriguez and Contra sat on either side of the eight-ball while everyone else filled in the remaining seats. The two guards who had escorted the eight-ball stood at the door.

Xandar, sitting beside Kenna, spoke first. "You have urgent information for us?"

The eight-ball leveled a venomous stare at him. "Traitor," she spat.

"The information," Xandar said, unperturbed. "Please," he added with heavy sarcasm.

The eight-ball maintained her cold stare a moment longer before answering. "There have been rumors of an attack." She hissed the "s".

"On who?" asked Kenna.

"Some small town. Jamestown, Georgetown in Alabama."

"Who is attacking, when, and why this town?"

"We are. A voice tells us to. One week. Don't care why. It's supposed to finally be safe."

"What do you mean, safe?"

"There was a fire that burned there and hurt us. Not anymore."

The rest of the group exchanged worried glances.

"If you partake in the attack, you will be killed," said Kenna. "The guards will escort you back to the gate, upon which you will receive your payment."

The eight-ball stood and snarled as the guards closed in on her. She trembled in anger as she was blindfolded again. Payment was usually jewelry or unique but useless objects. Anything from tourist shops was fair game. Eight-balls liked having things with their host's name on it.

Back in the war room, the council and commanders poured over maps. Ekatrina found it first in an almanac. Everyone crowded around the large book, peering at the map of Alabama spread across two pages. Ekatrina pointed a manicured finger at the lower left portion of the state. Her nail rested under the name "GEORGETOWN" in small print.

"It will take two days to drive there and we'll need to take gas with us," said Xandar.

"No, it's too risky," said Mayor Bell, shaking his head. "We can't risk any soldiers when we are already spread thin. We have enough trouble protecting the towns close to us."

Kenna addressed him. "Sir, we can't just leave them. I only need…."

Mayor Bell stopped her. "I cannot condone a rescue mission and I urge the rest of the council to consider what I have said. At some point, we must draw the line."

Mayor Bell made eye contact with everyone and then strode from the room. Everyone was silent as his footsteps faded.

"I'm sorry," Ekatrina said. She left.

Tom stood and sighed. "He's right, Kenna. We just can't right now." He followed Ekatrina out.

Kenna watched them leave, her lips pressed in a thin line. "Edgar, are you against this as well?"

Edgar examined his slender fingers.

"Edgar?" Kenna repeated more sharply.

He slowly looked up at her. "No, I'm not. I think we should do something, but we've been outvoted," he said, defeated. He got up to leave, but paused. He walked to Kenna and stood behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know how important this is to you, but you'll do more good staying here, where more people need your protection," Edgar said softly.

He walked out, leaving the commanders alone in the war room. Xandar, Rodriguez, Contra and Kenna sat quietly. Xandar kept studying the map. He slammed a hand down, making the others jump.

"This is wrong and you know it," he said, staring at Kenna. "Whatever you decide, I'm with you."

Contra stood beside Xandar. "We made a promise. Don't you think we should keep it?"

Ten minutes later, Kenna knocked on the door of Mayor Bell's office.

"Come in," he said.

Edgar, Ekatrina, and Tom were already there.

"Waiting on me?" Kenna asked.

"We knew you wouldn't give up that easily," said Tom.

Mayor Bell, from behind his desk, motioned for her to sit. She settled into an empty chair.

"Alright, Kenna. Tell me why I'm wrong," Mayor Bell said.

"You're not wrong, Charles. It is risky and we are spread thin. But, this is the first we've heard of the protective fire going out permanently. What if this happens in other towns? We need more information."

"I agree, but we don't have to risk our own people to get it."

"What about the people in Georgetown? They are unprepared for an attack of this magnitude. They'll be slaughtered," Kenna growled.

Mayor Bell threw his hands up. "And if it's a trap? We've turned down the prophets every time one of them has made us an offer. What if he is there? What if Lucifer is there?"

"If he is there, I'll deal with it."

"You can't honestly think you can beat him?" said Tom.

"It doesn't matter," Kenna said, bursting from her seat. "I, along with every member of our military, made an oath: I vow to protect those who can't protect themselves. There is no limit on distance or difficulty," she said fiercely.

The other council members shied away from Kenna. She commanded the room, filling it with her presence. She was bathed in the bright light slanting through the windows behind Mayor Bell's desk. It was as though all the light was focused on her and left the rest of the room in shadow.

"If you won't approve of this mission, I will leave Fairmont. I'll do this on my own." She glared at them.

"Promise you'll come back," Mayor Bell said in a broken whisper.

"I'll do my best."

"Not good enough."

Tom spoke up, his slow reassuring voice melting the tension. "Charles, she'll be fine, and so will the soldiers going with her."

Mayor Bell looked at him in shock. Not many people would interrupt the mayor and Kenna, least of all Tom. He was just so quiet. Sometimes Mayor Bell forgot that it was Tom's calming but determined nature that had won him a spot on the council. He huffed and massaged his graying temples.

"Just be careful, Kenna. We need you to come home."

She grimaced at his choice of words. She might have family here, but nothing could replace her home. "I will," she said.

Ekatrina hugged her first. "We need to schedule some girl time when you get back," she said with a knowing smile.

"Oh, great," Kenna said, rolling her eyes. So far, no one had questioned her about her impromptu make out session with Archangel Gabriel, but Ekatrina seemed determined.

Ekatrina laughed and stepped aside so Edgar could take her place. They didn't hug. Instead, he took one of Kenna's hands and gave it a light kiss. Kenna smiled and looked over at Mayor Bell. He still sat behind his desk, carefully avoiding looking at her. Kenna's eyes tightened briefly before she turned to leave. Tom held the door open for her and followed her out.

Kenna and Tom walked in silence to the military compound.

"Look after Charles, will you?" she asked.

"Of course."

They walked silently a few more beats. Kenna glanced over at Tom.

"We haven't talked much, have we?"

"No, we haven't, but I've always had the deepest respect for you."

Kenna was taken aback by the depth of his sincerity. "Thank you."

"Did I ever tell you I was an orphan?" Tom asked.

Kenna shook her head. "No, don't think so."

"My parents were drug users. My mother would have had me aborted, but my grandmother insisted she carry me to term. I think my grandmother would have raised me if she could. Instead, I ended up in an orphanage."

"I'm so sorry, Tom."

"It's alright. My point is, I understand why you're doing this. You told me once you would die a thousand times if it meant helping your family. You can't stand seeing anyone abandoned. You can't abandon these people."

Tom had kept walking as he talked. He glanced over at Kenna, but she wasn't beside him. Turning, he saw her standing a few paces back. He jogged back to her.

"Are you okay? I didn't mean to upset you."

"Thank you," Kenna said. "I forget how much we have in common."

Tom snorted. "Let's get your team ready."

* * *

General Riesen and Dan sat together outside. They had just finished discussing possible areas for relocation. They hadn't come up with anything satisfactory. Now they were watching children kicking a ball up and down the street. One of the children kicked the ball between two wooden crates marking the goal. General Riesen clapped, smiling at the children's enthusiasm. The city-wide speakers cackled to life. Claire Riesen's voice echoed through the city.

"I'm not the one who appears to be carrying on a secret relationship with an eight-ball. The tape was delivered anonymously to me, and I have to say, the first time I saw it, David, I couldn't believe my eyes."

General Riesen's vision blurred as tears filled his eyes. His sadness was quickly replaced with anger as he began to comprehend Claire's words.

"I need to speak with David," he said.

He was up and walking away briskly before Dan could respond. Riesen didn't bother knocking when he found Whele. He threw open the door, banging it against the wall, and strode in.

"Have you heard it?" he asked harshly. The recording was still playing.

"I have," said Whele.

"Well?"

"Really, Edward? You, of all people, shouldn't use that tone with me."

"I loved her."

"I'm not saying you didn't. You know how politics works. That was your daughter's clever ploy, along with the Lady Arika, to usurp me. Very nearly worked too. She was turning into quite the savvy politician."

"You're saying they set you up?"

"That's right."

Riesen hummed. Claire had really grown and proven herself as Lady of the City. Riesen wished he could have seen it for himself.

"This has that other candidate," Whele sneered, "written all over it. We need to take him out."

"Take him out? What do you have in mind?"

"I think it's time for another chat with your guard."

Fifteen minutes later, General Riesen, Whele, Dan, and Sgt. Mack met up in Whele's office. Getting straight to business, Whele addressed Dan.

"Your friend is trying to discredit me and he'll do the same to Edward. You need to tell us more about him."

"He's no friend of mine," said Dan. "Hardly an acquaintance. You've certainly made it easy for him, though."

Dan smirked. Whele glared at him. Dan held his smirk a moment longer before relenting.

"Bookie was in the family. No one could balance the books like him, and that made him a target. He was having dinner with one of our business associates, reminding him of what would happen if profits continued to decline. They were in a private room in the back and I was in the front of the restaurant. The attackers came through the kitchen. I lost two men and took a hit to the stomach." Dan rubbed at the old scar. "By the time I made it to the private room, Bookie was gone. He did manage to knife the other man. It was sticking out of his neck. He survived long enough to answer my questions. The place they took Bookie was a veritable fortress. I couldn't wait for back-up. I took out the guards, but got stuck behind a sealed door. I'd already gotten the passcode, but it didn't work. Turns out, it was a numerical code. The boss who owned the joint used his own name as the code. Egotistical bastard," spat Dan. "Took out more guards before walking into a lasered room. It was easy enough to dismantle. When I found Bookie, he was beaten and crumpled, tied to a chair. He had a long, jagged cut along his neck. I'm pretty sure he didn't die out of pure stubbornness. I had already gotten him out by the time back-up arrived. I had killed over fifty people that night, earning the name Graveman. Bookie changed after that. He promised he would never need saving again."

"How did you figure out the code and lasers?" asked Sgt. Mack.

"I was young when I joined the mafia. I spent most of my time in the Boss's house. He had an impressive library. Almost everything I know how to do I read in a book."

Whele leaned forward in his seat. "Does that include killing?"

Dan looked directly at him. "No. That came naturally."

"Handy."

* * *

 **Poor Alex. I'm really putting him through a hard time, aren't I? As always, reviews are most welcome.**


	13. Chapter 13

**I am so sorry everyone. I finished this chapter weeks ago, but forgot to post it. Sorry!**

* * *

"The Guiding Hand of Insanity"

The morning sun beat down, drying the ground from last night's thunderstorm. Alex crept along the edge of a row of houses. His boots squelched in the mud. He froze. He peered toward the houses, hoping none of the eight-balls had heard him. There were about two dozen milling around. When none of them noticed him, he kept walking. He had hoped to find the area abandoned. It had been a week since he had left the others, and his supplies were running low. Lately, every area he passed was crawling with eight-balls. Alex thought heading southwest would bring him to more towns clustered together and he would have more options. He wasn't having much luck. Alex sighed and looked back at the houses. A squabble had broken out. He used the cover of noise to put some distance between himself and the eight-balls.

Three hours later, Alex came upon a sprawling plantation. Nature's efforts to reclaim the land only made it more stunning. Two white fences, paint fading and peeling, lined either side of an asphalt driveway. Vines with dark green glossy leaves wound along them. Towering trees stood guard in a long line behind each fence. Broken branches were scattered across the driveway. Beyond the trees were wide expanses of fields filled with tall grasses. They swayed in the breeze and the budding leaves on the trees rustled. Alex walked slowly down the driveway, savoring the tranquility. At the end, the trees opened up, revealing a massive house. The siding was white and the window shutters were dark gray, matching the wrap-around porch. Two white rocking chairs creaked in the wind, making it seem like someone had been sitting there only a moment before. A two door garage adjoined the house. Alex walked up the wide porch steps and peered through a window. Seeing no signs of life, he cracked open the door. Alex took one slow step in, then another. He quietly closed the door behind him. He chuckled at himself. He was in the middle of nowhere in the post-apocalypse. Closing the door really wouldn't do anything. He meandered through the house, stopping in each room. The living room was pale yellow. Sunlight spilled through a set of bay windows. A quilt was artfully tossed across the back of a white sofa. The room looked like it came straight out of a home décor magazine. The kitchen was fully stocked. The counters and stainless steel appliances gleamed. Alex dumped everything he could into his backpack. With the seams nearly bursting, he dropped it off by the front door before heading up the stairs. The steps were made of smooth wood and the front face of each step was white. The second floor had two children's rooms, an office, and a full-sized bath. Seeing nothing useful, Alex went back downstairs. Remembering the adjoining garage, he grabbed his backpack and searched for the door to the garage. It was near the backdoor. He gazed out the glass panels into the back yard. Not far from the house was a large barn. Alex decided to check it out. A well-worn dirt path led from the house to the barn. The wooden door was heavy. Alex leaned a shoulder into it and pushed. It slid roughly to the side. Alex managed to open it enough to slip through. He was momentarily blinded by the darkness inside and blinked rapidly to restore his vision. The barn reeked of decay. Once he could see again, he glanced around. Four sets of pale eyes stared back at him. Two were children, about twelve and fifteen years old. The other two were adults, presumably the parents. Their hair was matted with dirt and their clothes were filthy. A length of chain was wrapped around their ankles and secured to a metal beam. Behind Alex, the barn door shuddered and he was plunged into pitch black. He stumbled in the dark, trying to reach the door. He called over his shoulder to the other humans.

"Hang on. I'll get you out of here."

He yanked on the door, his feet slipping on the damp hay covering the floor. It didn't budge. The chain holding the family rattled. Alex growled as he tried once more to pull open the door. He turned around and squinted through the dark.

"It's stuck," he said.

He unhooked his backpack from around one shoulder and swung it to his front. He unzipped a pocket and rummaged around until his fingers closed around a flashlight. He flicked it on.

"Is there another way out?" he asked.

He pointed the flashlight at the other humans, except they weren't there. A board swung toward his head. He twisted and ducked. The board hit his right shoulder, hard. Alex staggered a couple steps and then righted himself. The light from the flashlight bounced crazily. He tried to point it in the direction of the attack, but was struck across his back. He fell forward, dropping the flashlight. The damp hay scratched his face and hands. The smell of urine made him dizzy. He pushed himself up, grabbing the flashlight from where it landed, and put his back against the door. He swept the light back and forth. As it hit one of the attackers, the adult male lunged. He and Alex grappled. The flashlight fell and one of the children kicked it away. The female adult joined in and she and the male subdued Alex. Breathing hard, Alex glanced around. The two adults had a tight grip on him. Through the gloom, Alex saw humanoid shapes clinging to the walls.

"Eight-balls," he spat.

He craned his neck around to look at the woman. He was surprised he hadn't noticed what they were. His eyes widened in shock. Even beneath the filth, Alex could see she didn't have the tell-tale spider veins crisscrossing her face or the black eyes of eight-balls. She really was human. Her breath made Alex gag.

Alex thrashed, trying to break their grip on him. The man chuckled.

"You only have two choices. Stay and serve or die." He nodded toward the eight-balls.

Alex stilled, unable to comprehend. "Serve them? Like slaves?"

"We do as they ask and they protect us," the woman said.

Alex snorted. "That's ridiculous. You're cowards." He stretched his fingers down, shifting his weight to cover his movement. "I bet you had everything in life handed to you. You never had to work a day in your life."

Alex finally got his fingers into his pants pocket. He felt the cool metal of the pocketknife. He shifted around some more, struggling against his captors. He hooked a fingernail into the groove of the blade and popped it open.

"When the war started, you gambled away your freedom just to live another day, if you can even call this living."

He wrapped his hand around the pocketknife and angled his body toward the woman while staring down the man. The man glared back, sneering. He opened his mouth to retort. Alex yanked out the pocketknife and drove it into the woman's gut. She screeched and released him, stumbling back. He brought the knife around, flipped it over in his hand, and stabbed the man in the throat. The children lunged for Alex. He slipped between their outstretched arms and shoved them toward the eight-balls. Above them, at the back of the barn, a single finger of light slanted through a gap between the beams of wood. Alex cast his eyes about for a way to get up to the loft. There was a rotting ladder just on the other side of the eight-balls. Alex steeled himself and dived in. Dirt encrusted fingers curved like claws raked against him, snagging his clothes. He slipped the backpack off and swung it in a wide arc around himself, knocking back at least three eight-balls. But, there were too many. They crowded him, eager to steal his last breath.

Through the mass of limbs, Alex saw the woman tending to an eight-ball whose nose he had broken with a deft punch. Her children lay forgotten. One was dead, but the other was still breathing, reaching for his mother. His right leg was bent at an odd angle. The woman batted away her son's hand. Anger flooded Alex. The edges of his vision darkened and adrenaline spiked his blood. He roared and grabbed the nearest eight-ball. The creature squirmed, but Alex only tightened his hold. The tattoos shot down his arm to the eight-ball. It was faster this time than it had been on the highway. The angelic spirit burst from the body, briefly illuminating the room, and blinked out of existence. The silence was heavy, save for Alex's panting. He pushed the body off of him and stood. Rage burned in his eyes. He took a step forward and the eight-balls in front of him scattered. He jabbed a finger at the barn door. Several eight-balls rushed to open it. He scooped up his backpack and walked slowly, almost leisurely, out of the barn.

Alex finally got into the garage. A 2015 cherry red Ford Mustang was waiting for him. He smiled wickedly.

* * *

Kenna stared out the window at the passing landscape.

"How far out are we?" she asked.

"About ten minutes," answered Xandar from the driver's seat.

Kenna rubbed a hand over her eyes. The attack was set to happen tomorrow. She only had hours to convince the people of Georgetown that they were in danger and she was there to help them. Time to play the diplomat. Xandar pulled over and the other jeep with the rest of the team stopped beside them. They rolled down their windows to talk.

"We're going to split up," said Xandar. "Drive around until you find someone. If you do, angels stay out of sight. Contra should go first."

Contra, sitting in the front passenger seat of the other jeep, nodded in understanding. The two groups separated. Xandar drove them through downtown. Kenna let her mind wander, imagining the stores full of shoppers and the sidewalks laden with smiling folk and playing children. Four radios, one for each person in the jeep, cackled.

"Go ahead," Kenna said into hers.

"We found them. Contra is talking to them now."

"Copy that."

The other team relayed directions to their location. Ten minutes later, Kenna stood with the six soldiers. Contra rounded out their team at eight. It was a small force, but they were all exceptional fighters. Kenna had had some reservations about having three commanders on this mission, but Mayor Bell had insisted. Rodriguez could take care of Fairmont on his own. After a couple minutes, Contra rejoined their group. He stopped in front of Kenna.

"You're going to want to hear this. The rest of you, form a perimeter and stay out of sight."

He led the way back to the townspeople. A group of twenty waited for them about halfway down a residential street. A pretty woman with chin-length dark hair took a step forward. Kenna and Contra halted. Contra motioned for Kenna to stay put as he moved a few paces closer to the woman.

"This is my commanding officer Kenna," he said to the woman. He turned to look at Kenna. "And this is Laurel."

The two women eyed each other. Fifteen seconds ticked by. Kenna opened her arms in a peaceful gesture. Laurel nodded her consent. Kenna approached slowly, stopping a couple feet away. She tried to appear non-threatening, not an easy task for her, but the man with a shotgun on the edge of the group was good motivation.

"We fear you and your people may be in danger," Kenna said gently. "We offer you our help."

"We already know that without the fire, we could be attacked."

"Laurel, why don't you tell her what you told me?" Contra interjected.

Laurel cut her eyes at him. She fidgeted, her hair falling in front of her eyes. She glanced back at her group. She sucked in a breath and faced Kenna again.

"We were at Sunday mass. A man, we call him the Prophet, interrupted our prayers. He was the one who told us we would be protected if one of us took the sins of our people and sacrificed ourselves once every five years. This time, he came with a more difficult choice." Laurel shook her head sadly. "He said our protector required a strong show of faith. He said we must all sacrifice ourselves so that we could live on in eternal glory. No one believed him at first. Then, a voice spoke to us. We could hear him, our Heavenly Father. He begged us to believe the Prophet. He said our sacrifice would bring about a rebirth, and that is how we would live on. It was like he could reach inside us. I felt warm and cold at the same time. I watched as my friends began to believe, and I did too." Tears slid down Laurel's cheeks and she wrapped her arms around herself. She palmed her eyes, drying the tears. "One by one, they went up to the altar, took the ceremonial knife we always leave out, and sacrificed themselves. I moved closer, ready to join them, but then something changed. I felt sick. It scared me. Whatever spell was on me broke and I ran. We are all that's left. The protective fire went out and we've been dealing with eight-balls since."

Kenna turned and walked a few paces away. She held herself still, not wanting to worry Contra. He was already watching her closely. She calmed the roiling turmoil inside herself and walked back to Laurel.

Speaking loud enough for everyone to hear, she said, "Surely you now know it was never God who protected you. You have been used by Lucifer."

The man with the shotgun raised it slightly. "How do you know?" he yelled accusingly.

Kenna eyed the gun, but wasn't concerned. "Think about it," she said. "Hasn't it been many centuries since God required sacrifices? And isn't fire and brimstone more of the Devil's thing?"

The man grunted and lowered the gun.

"We came here because we received word that a large contingent of eight-balls plans to attack tomorrow. We don't have enough time to flee, but perhaps enough to fortify. Let us help you." Kenna opened her arms again and met the gaze of every person.

Laurel retreated and spoke with the others. After a few terse minutes, she nodded to Kenna. Though they weren't sure she was telling the truth, they also didn't want to take the risk either. Contra radioed for the others to join them.

"You should meet the rest of our team," Kenna said.

A moment later, they appeared. As they got closer, whispers ran through the group. The man raised his shotgun again, pointing it directly at Xandar's chest.

"You brought eight-balls here," he snarled.

Kenna turned her back on him and motioned for the other two humans to join Contra. Apart from her commanders, Kenna had also brought two human and three eight-ball soldiers. Xandar knew what she was doing and signaled for the other three to take up an attack position. He pounced on Kenna, his grip on her tight.

"Ouch," she muttered.

Xandar chuckled but loosened his grip. "I could easily kill her," he said loudly.

"Doubtful," she muttered again.

"Hush," he told her softly. Continuing to speak to everyone, he said, "but I would never hurt her. She gave me a second chance. She is family." He let her up.

Kenna gave him a playful shove. "I love you too," she teased. "Humans and angels are not so different. As Xandar so eloquently put, we are family."

Laurel and her people grudgingly agreed to accept their help, given the eight-balls formed the outer defense, away from the humans. They spent five hours reviewing the town layout and devising a plan. They relocated to an area with fewer streets and they pushed cars around to create cover. A few people still thought they should make a run for it, but Kenna explained that the eight-balls were likely already quite close and hiding in wait. Escape would be futile. She was surprised to learn of an additional three people among the survivors, children. They were told to hide when Contra had found them. Kenna assigned one of her human soldiers to stay with the children and protect them.

As dusk encroached around them, Kenna and Contra sat together around a campfire.

"What's his plan?" Contra asked.

"Whose?" said Kenna.

Contra gave her a pointed look.

She sighed. "We already know he uses sacrifices to heal himself. I would guess he is trying to speed up the process."

"You would guess?"

Kenna jumped to her feet. "Look, it's not like I'm privy to his master plan. I've told you all I know."

Contra held up his hands. "I'm sorry. I know you have. It's just you have more experience with hi…."

Kenna's look cut him off. He grimaced at the reprimand.

The next morning, Kenna went scouting alone. She felt bad for snapping at Contra last night. As much as she tried to keep her past behind her, it kept sneaking back, and it seemed to be happening more often. But she had been truthful. She really didn't know anything else. She pulled herself from her thoughts and surveyed what was before her. She stood in the middle of an interstate leading out of Georgetown. It felt lonely without the rushing of cars. She peered down the pavement, shielding her eyes from the bright sun with a hand. Right where the road curved, she saw a dark shape step out of the shadow of the trees. None of her people would be so far out. She moved into the cover of trees and ran. The figure was a half-mile away. She needed to move fast.

Kenna sprung between trees and saplings. She ducked out of the woods, saw the figure was still there, and ducked back in. Once she was close, she slowed. Carefully, she moved closer. The figure was a dark-skinned man. The corners of his lips were tilted up. Kenna was about to move on the man when something caught her eye. He saw it too. There was someone approaching. The man's face broke into a wide grin.

"Alex Lannon, I've been looking forward to meeting you."

Kenna didn't move. She didn't even breathe. So this was humanity's savior. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the glowing tattoos on his arms. Alex passed to the left of the man, reaching out and touching the man's cheek. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Still crouched in the trees, Kenna watched Alex continue walking as though nothing had happened. Crouched in the shadows, she waited for several minutes before dashing out of her hiding spot. She cut across the interstate and plunged into the woods on the other side. Branches whipped past her. She needed to warn the others. Something was very wrong with the Chosen One.

It took ten minutes at a full sprint for Kenna to reach one of her soldiers forming the outer perimeter. In five, Xandar had joined her. Contra told Laurel what was going on and ordered the perimeter to be tightened. Kenna and Xandar scouted ahead, searching for Alex.

"Why aren't the Archangels with him?" Xandar asked.

"I don't know. I didn't see them. Hopefully they will show up soon and fill us in."

Xandar suddenly grabbed Kenna's arm and pulled her behind a building.

"Look," he whispered, pointing down the street.

They were back in downtown. A couple blocks away, Alex was peering through shop windows. His face was cold, eyes devoid of light. His tattoos were swirling languorously, a byproduct of what he was feeling.

"We need to neutralize him before he hurts someone or himself," Kenna said.

Xandar nodded. "I'll approach from the front. You sneak around back and drop on him from that single story building. I'll make sure he is in position."

"Be careful," Kenna said. She took off at a jog. Xandar watched her disappear around the corner before he moved. He sucked in a deep breath and remembered what it felt like when he finally had a body. He tried to imitate the animalistic movements and feral expression. He had spent years learning how to be civilized. This felt like a betrayal to his hard work. He shook off his conflicted feelings and loped out from behind the building.

Alex spotted him immediately. Xandar snarled and stalked toward him. Alex moved forward too. Once they were in front of the single story building, Xandar stopped. He slashed at Alex. He made sure there was enough space between them to avoid contact. Behind Alex, Kenna appeared on the roof top. She dropped like a bird swooping in on its prey. She landed on his back, forcing him to the ground. Her deft fingers found a pressure point, rendering Alex unconscious. She untangled herself from him and accepted Xandar's hand to get up.

"Well done," he said.

"You too. Let's get him out of here and secure him."

Xandar lifted Alex under the arms and Kenna grabbed his legs. They took him to the far end of the street the survivors were on. After they had tied him to the foot of a bed and searched and hid his gear in a closet, they joined the others. Dusk was fast approaching and there was still no sign of an eight-ball attack. Everyone was in their positions. Minutes before the sun sank below the horizon, one of the Fairmont soldiers ran up.

"They're here, coming from the North and West."

"Clever, said Kenna, "using the remaining light to blind us. Signal the others."

The soldier ran off. A moment later, a small flame flickered outside a house, then another came to life outside a different house. Kenna nodded in approval. Their signal was both a means of indicating where the attack was coming from and a trap. There was a bit of shuffling as a few people repositioned themselves.

Five more minutes ticked by. Kenna placed herself in the center of the street, making herself an optimal target. She unsheathed her swords. They reflected the blood-orange light of the setting sun. The attacking eight-balls appeared in a rush. Their cries ripped through the silent night. They spilled from between trees and houses. They leapt over cars and shrubs. Only a dozen came for Kenna. The rest split into two groups, heading for the houses with light. Kenna rolled her shoulders and almost lazily spun her right sword around her hand.

As the eight-balls reached the houses, the survivors and Fairmont soldiers flanked them. Several small fires flared to life, blinding the eight-balls. It was nearly dark now. The dozen eight-balls that had come at Kenna tried to help the other groups, but she was already in theier midst, cutting them down with merciless precision. As she pulled her sword from the body of the last eight-ball, she glanced at the group at the North end. Seeing Contra already over there, she joined the West group. Her soldiers were making quick work of the attackers. She kept to the outside, keeping any eight-balls from escaping.

"Kenna," yelled Contra from three houses down.

He pointed down the street to the house the children were hiding in. Five eight-balls were approaching it. Kenna tore off. Her path was blocked. Her swords flashed as she struck out, but the eight-ball was too fast. She struck out again, making contact. The eight-ball yowled, clamping the deep cut on its right shoulder. Kenna spun around and continued running to the house. The eight-ball gave chase. A blur passed Kenna and collided into the eight-ball with a grunt.

"Thanks," she called over her shoulder to Xandar.

In the house, the Fairmont soldier had led the children to the kitchen where the backdoor was, except it was blocked. Alex stood in the doorway. The five eight-balls herded them deeper into the room. They were trapped. Kenna arrived, skidding to a halt. Two eight-balls turned to face her.

Alex surged into the room. All he saw were humans being directed by eight-balls. He missed the fear on the children's faces and the expressions of grim determination on the two soldiers. He barreled into one eight-ball and slammed it into a wall. He grabbed a fistful of its ragged shirt and yanked it toward him. As it stumbled past, he wrapped his arms around the eight-ball's neck in a head-lock. A resounding crack followed and the eight-ball slumped to the floor.

The other four eight-balls were dancing around the soldiers, trying to avoid Kenna's swords and the other's gun. Kenna had a pistol too, but with the children across from her, she didn't want to risk missing her target and hitting one of them. The soldier protecting the children feinted left. He brought his pistol up and pulled out a knife strapped to his left leg. He threw the knife at the eight-ball on his left and put a bullet through the skull of the other one. Both hits were kills. He turned back to the children, ready to usher them out of the house, away from all the death. Suddenly, something rammed into him. He smashed into a counter, his head snapping back and hitting the blue-gray granite countertop with a sickening thud. Black spots invaded his vision. As though through water, he heard Kenna across the room.

"No," she yelled.

Alex was focused completely on the soldier. He tightly gripped the knife he had dislodged from an eight-ball's body. His knuckles were white. The woman was coming for him, but with all the bodies strewn across the linoleum floor, she wouldn't reach him in time. Alex plunged the knife into the soldier's gut and twisted. A feral snarl contorted his face. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders in a vice-like grip. Kenna pulled him back so forcefully that Alex fell and slid on the blood-splattered floor. She was instantly on him, raining down blows. Alex used his arms to shield his head, but her punches were so hard, Alex wondered if he would be able to defend himself much longer. Through the space between his forearms, he caught a brief look at Kenna's eyes.

Kenna drove her fists into Alex's sides and along any spot that he couldn't shield with his arms. The blows were punishing, capable of breaking bones. Fiery hot rage burned through her, like that night in Helena. She caught a glimpse of Alex's face through the break between his forearms. His eyes were alight with fear. Kenna pushed down her anger, forcing herself to imagine the sweet little girl in Fairmont who wanted to be like her, or the children in Helena playing with the Archangels. She took a deep breath and stopped hitting Alex. She appraised him for a second longer before landing one last punch.

It happened so fast, Alex didn't have time to react. There was a short pause in the woman's punches, just long enough for Alex to let his weary arms begin to drop. His last thought before she knocked him out was how much he wished Michael was with him.

* * *

Dan sat alone in the darkening room. He stared into the lit fireplace. It had been a week since the recording that had implicated David Whele of being involved with an eight-ball. The people were furious and afraid. If Whele, who had always seemed to vehemently despise angels, could be corrupted, then what chance did Vega's citizens have? Despite Whele's insistence, no one believed he was set up. Bookie's plan was working.

Dan pondered what to do. Years ago, before the world fell apart but after Dan had left the mafia, he had come across Bookie in Las Vegas. Dan had risen to Head of Security by the time he was thirty. His coworkers had heard rumors of his past, but no one was brave enough to ask. Dan's bulging muscles and steely expression saw to that. He was sitting at his desk, reviewing the latest Profit-Loss Statement, when his phone jingled in his pocket. The cheery tune cut off when he slid his finger across the screen.

"This is Danilo."

"Sir, we have some suspicious activity at The Venetian."

"One moment." Dan pulled up a live stream of the security feed at The Venetian on his computer. "What do we have?" he asked the young guard.

"Blackjack. Table seven."

Dan scanned the screen until he located the right table. He squinted, trying to make out the faces of the people crowded around. One of the patrons caught his attention. There was something familiar about the set of those shoulders.

"Zoom in twenty percent," Dan barked.

There was the clicking of computer keys on the other end of the line as the guard complied. Dan's brow furrowed. The feed was grainy, but he was absolutely certain he knew who that was.

"Let me guess. This man has been here a few nights. He loses, but when the pot is big, he seems unusually lucky."

"Yes, sir," the guard said.

"Do not engage. I will handle this one personally."

Dan hung up, not waiting for a response. He stood and stretched. His boss gave him a lot of grief over his attire, but Dan felt like he made a bigger impact on wrongdoers when he didn't wear the customary suit. Instead, he was wearing darkwash jeans, boots, and a black long-sleeve shirt. Everything fit him exceptionally well, alluding to his fit body without being obvious. The rich who frequented the strip often dismissed him as dumb muscle who could be bought. It was a mistake they only made once.

He reached The Venetian in record time. He slipped onto the floor, nodding at the guards on duty as he passed. He positioned himself directly across from table seven. He leaned against the wall with one leg bent and arms crossed. The suspicious patron glanced up. Seeing Dan, he nodded once. A moment later, he threw his hands in the air.

"Ah, so close," he said with an exasperated cry.

Dan snorted. What a show. He slowly walked to a door marked Staff Only. He waited in the hallway on the other side. A moment later, the patron joined him.

"Dan, good to see you." They clasped hands.

"You look well, Bookie."

"The family treats me well. Senior Velmaz would be happy to have you back."

"Is that why you're here?" asked Dan.

"No need to sound so hostile." Bookie chuckled. "I'm on vacation."

Dan raised an eyebrow, questioning Bookie's honesty.

"I swear," Bookie said, holding up his hands.

"In that case, I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave."

"Oh, why's that?"

"We do not permit card counting."

"I can't believe you would accuse me, an old friend, of cheating." Bookie put a hand to his heart as though he was genuinely shocked.

Dan returned to his typical behavior when dealing with patrons. "Please leave, sir, or I will have you escorted from the premises."

Bookie took a step closer, crowding into Dan. "Don't you threaten me, boy. I can have them after you like that." He snapped his fingers to demonstrate. "Or maybe I should remind you of your place myself." Bookie's voice dropped dangerously low.

Dan had lowered his eyes while Bookie spoke. He raised his gaze slowly, a scorching intensity building behind his brown eyes. "You want to remind me of my place? Go ahead. Try. I know every way there is to kill a man, and even came up with a few of my own."

Bookie was livid. He swung, but Dan blocked. He doubled over as Dan drove a fist into his stomach.

Dan, his mouth an inch from Bookie's ear, whispered, "You're not always the smartest man in the room, or hallway as it were. I will bury you." He shoved the other man away. "Get out."

Bookie straightened. He ran his hands over his dark blue tailored jacket, smoothing the fabric. His expression was unreadable. "Until next time, Danilo."

Dan woke the next morning with a start. Last night's events flooded back to him. He spent the day looking over his shoulder, certain someone would be after him. At about seven p.m., he received a call on his work phone. He picked up the handset, stretching the ringlet cord until it was pressed to his ear.

"Danilo Terrinetto speaking. How may I help you?"

"I'm with the coroner's office. We have several bodies we think you may be able to identify."

When Dan saw the seven bodies of casino guards, people he knew well, he knew exactly what had happened. There was a knife sticking out of each person's neck and a plus-minus sign had been carved into their foreheads. Dan had made an enemy out of the smartest person he knew, and that intelligence made his enemy the most dangerous too.

Dan's thoughts scattered as he returned to the present. The flickering fire was the only light in the dark room. Night had fallen. He shuddered and moved to the fireplace to warm his hands. He had to come up with something fast or Bookie would destroy them all.

* * *

 **I promise I'm almost done being mean to Alex. What do you think of flashbacks? I like them. It's a little change of pace and a chance to explore how characters became the way they are. I'm thinking about doing another story on the Extinction War and Riesen's role in it. I'm thinking there might be a short flashback or mention of that in an upcoming chapter.**

 **So yeah, Kenna could have used her gun at the start of the attack, but why waste bullets when you're a badass with swords? It's just so much cooler. Anyway, your thoughts are always welcome and appreciated!**

 **P.s. I was going to name this chapter "When Hope Fades." Better or worse than what I went with?**


	14. Chapter 14

"The Truth Hurts"

Alex woke slowly. His head throbbed and the light filtering through his eyelids made the ache worse. He cracked open an eye and grimaced. Even with thick yellow and blue plaid curtains pulled over the window, it was still bright. He slowly turned his head. Seeing no one in the room, he carefully lifted himself from the small bed. He swung his legs over the edge, wincing as the movement sent more pangs of pain through his head. Alex staggered to the widow and pushed open a curtain. He was on the second floor, looking down on the backyard. Three children ran around the yard, playing a made-up game. There were a few adults playing too, their grins part amusement and part embarrassment. The slightest smile played across Alex's face. Bixby had loved playing with him. It broke his heart she had died before he could take her somewhere safe.

After making slow progress down the stairs, Alex searched the rest of the house, finding it empty. He peeked outside. Seeing no signs of life out front, he slipped onto the porch.

"Going somewhere?" a man asked.

Alex spun around. The man stood on the far end of the porch, invisible from inside.

"My name is Contra. Heard you took a pretty hard hit to the head. Let's get some breakfast and see if we can find you some aspirin."

Alex followed the other man cautiously. His memory of last night was foggy, making him unsure of the person walking in front of him. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, uncomfortable in the muggy morning air. They went into a house three lots down. Inside, it was bustling. Contra led Alex through the living room to the kitchen, weaving between bodies. One disgruntled man stopped in front of them.

"You can question him later," Contra said.

"I want to talk to him now." The man glared at Alex.

"He needs a proper meal. You can speak to him after he's had a bite to eat." Contra brushed past the other man, Alex close on his heels. Once free of the lingering gaze, Contra releaxed.

"Sorry about Wes. He lives in this town but he isn't the most hospitable of hosts."

Contra piled eggs and sausage onto a plate, still warm from the stove. They stood at the kitchen island while Alex ate. He scarfed down half the food before slowing.

"You live here too?" he asked between mouthfuls.

"No, just helping out."

"Last night? The eight-balls?"

"Yeah. We heard there was going to be an attack here. We couldn't just turn a blind eye."

"Whose we?" Alex asked, his suspicion growing.

"Just a few people from where I live. You'll meet them when you're finished eating."

Once Alex's plate was clean, Contra led him upstairs to a room at the end of the hall. It was a spacious study, but most of the room was occupied by a large round table. There were four people huddled around it. Alex's eyes fell on the woman with long dark hair. His memories came flooding back.

"Hi, I'm Kenna,' she said. "Sorry about last night. I hope I didn't hurt you. You had to be stopped."

Alex nodded. Last night, and the past week, felt like a dream.

"This is Laurel and Wes. They have been most gracious to us."

Alex inclined his head in greeting to them and then faced the last person. When Alex saw Xandar's black eyes, he sucked in a sharp breath and tried to back out of the room. Contra put a hand on his back. Alex shoved him off.

"What is this? Are you keeping one as a pet?" His eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape or a weapon.

"Xandar is our friend," Contra said.

Alex risked a glance behind him. Contra had a hand resting on the hilt of a sword and his other hand on a pistol strapped to his leg. Xandar was the same. Kenna put a hand on Xandar's arm, pulling him back slightly.

"Allow me to explain," she said.

She moved around the table to stop in front of Alex. He eyed her weapons nervously. She removed them, passing them to Xandar. She held out an arm toward the door.

"Shall we?"

Kenna spent the next hour and a half detailing Fairmont, its citizens, and how she knew about Alex and her run-in with the Archangels. Alex nodded along, only half comprehending.

"So your city has eight-balls and humans living side-by-side? I've seen that before," he scoffed.

She sighed. "Will you believe me if I give you a sufficient reason for why Fairmont is different?"

Alex snorted. "Sure."

"While Fairmont was under construction, Mayor Bell asked me to visit New Delphi to form an alliance. We couldn't spare anyone, so I went alone. The first day, everything seemed fine. Julian was an impeccable host. That night, it all fell apart. I was held captive for two weeks. I won't detail what happened to me. All that matters now is that Julian pays for his indiscretions. I convinced a few eight-balls and humans to release me in exchange for true freedom and safety. Not everyone there is a monster. Now they work for me as spies."

Kenna had been staring down, fiddling with her shirt, but now she looked right at Alex. "So when I say Fairmont is different, I mean it. Is that a good enough reason?"

Alex looked away. "That will do," he said softly. "Last night, did I hurt anyone?"

"One person, but he will be fine."

"Sorry," Alex sighed.

* * *

Michael scolded himself for the hundredth time. He knew there had been something wrong, but he had given Alex space anyway. He should have kept a closer watch, pushed for more information. Beside him, Noma drifted closer.

"Let's take a break," she said.

She had kept pace well, but she was starting to slow. The angled their wings and descended slowly, still searching for Alex. Noma landed with an umph. She rolled her shoulders and groaned. Michael gave his wings a good stretch and retracted them.

"Come here," he told Noma.

As she approached, he reached out a hand. She jumped at his touch.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

Michael sat on the ground and patted the spot in front of him. Noma complied and relaxed as Michael massaged her tense shoulders. She sighed.

"Thanks."

Michael chuckled. "You're out of shape. Maybe we should reinstate training," he teased.

"Oh yeah," Noma said. She leaned back and twisted her torso, pinning Michael. "I think I'm doing just fine," she said smugly.

Lightening quick, he broke her grip and flipped her over. She lay sprawled in the grass.

"Okay, maybe I could use a refresher. But please, not today. I'm exhausted."

Michael stood and surveyed Noma. He cracked a smile at her plea. Gabriel landed beside them.

"Don't whine, Noma. It's unbecoming."

This was coming from an Archangel whose hair was a complete mess, sticking out everywhere. Noma stifled a laugh and got up. Michael held back a laugh too. He reached over and smoothed his brother's hair. The small sign of affection took them both by surprise. Noma turned away, giving them privacy.

A moment later, Michael spoke. "Anything?" When Gabriel didn't answer, he moved closer. "Well?"

"I might have something, but it's a longshot. Don't get your hopes up."

Michael grabbed his arm.

"Ow," Gabriel muttered.

Michael didn't loosen his hold. "Tell me."

"I came across eight-balls who said they saw someone matching Alex's description heading west. That was nearly a week ago."

Michael was in the air, speeding away before Gabriel finished. Noma grimaced, but didn't say anything. She felt Gabriel move closer and turned to face him.

"You're doing great," he told her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You make me more nervous when you're being nice."

She just caught sight of his grin before he whipped out his wings and knocked her over.

"That's more like it," Noma grumbled. She picked herself up and let out her wings. They were almost too bright to look at. She sighed, part in relief for having wings again and part in horror at the punishing pace Michael was setting. She propelled herself into the air, following the Archangels.

The three angels spread out with several miles between them to cover more ground. They flew for five hours before seeing anything promising. Michael was passing over the outskirts of a town when he saw someone familiar. Two hundred feet below, Xandar tensed. His soldier instincts were warning him. Moments ago, birds had been chirping, but now there was only silence. He scanned the area around him, searching for danger. Seeing nothing unusual, he looked to the only other place he hadn't checked, up. He grabbed his pistol and aimed it at the oncoming angel. Just before pulling the trigger, he recognized Michael. Michael landed and they shook hands.

"Good reaction time," he commented.

"Thanks. I take it you are looking for Alex?"

Michael shifted.

"He's here, Michael, and he's okay."

"Where?"

Xandar led Michael to the residential street the inhabitants were staying at. A crowd had gathered in a yard around two men.

"There's nothing you can say. You are as full of sin as they are," Wes yelled at Alex, gesturing to the Fairmont soldiers.

"I'm sorry." Alex's voice was barely a whisper, choked with emotion. "I'm so sorry."

"You tried to kill our children. Rot in Hell."

Wes swung wildly at Alex. Michael dashed into the yard. He grabbed Wes' arm, bringing the man to a jerky halt. Wes quailed. He stumbled back, stuttering.

"Michael," breathed Alex. He leaned into his angel, resting his head against the other's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disobey."

Michael hugged his savior fiercely. "It's okay. You're okay."

Over Alex's head, Michael saw Laurel. She was focused on him, her confusion evident. Michael separated from Alex and walked slowly to her. Kenna and Contra, who had been in the crowd, took his place beside Alex. Steps from Laurel, Michael paused. He waited while she struggled with her thoughts.

"This can't be real. You died," Laurel said. She reached out a hand as though to touch him.

"I did, but in my case, death isn't always permanent."

Laurel took a step closer. "I don't understand."

"I'm not like you." Michael moved closer. "I'm not human."

"What are you?" she whispered.

Michael let out his wings, stretching them tip to tip for several seconds before settling them against his back. Laurel sucked in a sharp breath and stumbled back.

"The Prophet told us we had to move, that your visit put us in danger. It makes sense now."

"I am no danger to you."

Laurel took another step back. "How many people have you killed?" Her voice shook, afraid of his answer.

"Many."

She shook her head, unable to reconcile the image of the man she had fallen for in Mallory with the angel before her. "What's your name?"

"I told you my name."

Laurel put a hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp. Her head swam. Somehow, Wes was beside her, pushing her away from Michael. A small part of her was annoyed. If Michael wanted to hurt her, he'd had plenty of opportunities. But she couldn't get her thoughts in order. She vaguely heard Wes telling Michael to leave and to take the other newcomers with him.

An hour later, Michael stood alone, separate from the rest of the group. He had thoroughly questioned Alex and reprimanded him for leaving. He had barely contained his emotions. Now he gazed out from the edge of their camp, ignoring the introductions of the Fairmont people.

"Brother." Gabriel's quiet voice startled him. "Will you walk with me?"

They walked along the outskirts of the town until Gabriel pulled them to a stop.

"This isn't like you. What's going on, Michael?"

Michael didn't answer, instead gazing in Laurel's direction.

"It's not just because of the children, why we can't get involved," Gabriel said.

Michael looked back at his twin.

"Father told me in private. He didn't want us to suffer. They will die. She will die, but you won't. We will forever feel the pain of loss, hear the echoes of their laughter, and see the brilliance of their smiles. Attachment is dangerous, Michael. You told me that."

"I know." Michael turned back to their camp. The elegant lines of his face hardened for just a moment before being replaced by a cool mask.

Gabriel wanted to hug his brother, but didn't. Michael was doing what he always did when he began to feel deeply. He shut that part of himself away, leaving his feelings to fade away until he was a clean slate. Gabriel hated it. He wanted to show Michael that it was possible to feel and not go mad, but Michael was stubborn. And given his track record, Gabriel didn't think he could convince his brother otherwise. Instead, he said nothing as they rejoined the others.

Night had fallen. Despite his warning to Michael, Gabriel felt drawn toward Kenna. She was leaning against a tree, keeping watch while the others slept. She turned at the sound of his approach. She opened her arms to him, her smile making his stomach flip-flop. He engulfed her in a hug and felt her relax into his touch. She mumbled against his chest.

Gabriel pulled back a little and hummed a soft "Hmm?" He was too preoccupied drinking in her features to be more articulate.

"Hey, little angel," she said again.

He brushed a hand along her cheekbone and ran his fingers through her dark hair. He pulled her in for a kiss. When they parted, lips still so close, he whispered to her, "Come to me after your shift."

He placed one more soft kiss on her mouth and went back inside the house the group had claimed. Kenna shivered.

* * *

Bookie sat behind his desk, patiently waiting. He had taken over an abandoned one-story office building, making it his home and campaign headquarters. To him, his personal life and work life were the same. As the door creaked open, he sat straighter. A handsome man, tall and muscled, just short of being bulky, entered. There was an ageless grace about his features and the way he moved. He stopped in front of the desk and inclined his head in a polite bow.

"Was the mission a success?" Bookie asked.

"To be clear, the mission was not to kill them, but rather to remind them that they can be killed." The man spoke with steady assurance.

"And?"

"They have been reminded." He curled his lips in a sinister smile.

Bookie's breath caught in his throat. Fear raced through him, and he loved it. The man moved closer, leaning across the desk, strong fingers splayed across the deep wood.

"You do not need to fear me now. I am a predator, but you aren't my prey." He moved around the desk to kneel beside Bookie. "We want the same thing. My kind has suffered under angels for many long centuries, as you have suffered under your kind. Together we will regain the control long deprived to us."

Bookie nodded fervently. "Yes, yes. Do we have what we need?"

The other man stood up abruptly. "Do you mean have we done your dirty work for you?"

Bookie was taken aback by the sudden change. "I apologize, Ephraim. I am thankful for your assistance."

Ephraim hummed lightly. "Oh yes. We have plenty."

The next morning, Bookie held a meeting with the same people he had spoken to after his candidacy announcement. He stood before them, arms open wide.

"Welcome back my most trusted friends and advisors." He made eye contact with each person. "I have stumbled upon distressing news and must now depend on you to help me unravel the truth." He stepped closer and his audience leaned in. He dropped his voice to just above a whisper, preparing to divulge terrible secrets. "Someone I thought was a good man has been lying to us. We know General Riesen as the hero who saved humanity during the Extinction War, but he is no General. Before Heaven's wrath was set on us, he worked as an office lackey at a military base. He was a civilian who stole an honorable title bestowed upon a true hero." He shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry to tell you this. I know many of you respected him. Unfortunately, I have more bad news. David Whele has also kept secrets and done terrible things. The fire that destroyed the hotel for V1's was his doing. That group that was practicing religion in private was also killed by him. And the worst of all, he brutally murdered his own son."

Gasps filled the room. There were murmers of "impossible" and "I don't believe it." Bookie snapped back up to his full height. He pounded his fist against his open palm.

"Before we move forward with this knowledge, we must verify it. We need the truth. I cannot ask, but you can. Find out. Ask your friends, your neighbors. Be discreet. I don't want to damage anyone's reputation from falsehoods."

The news spread like a disease. The lower class was quick to accept what they heard. They huddled in the streets, whispering, eyes flicking around in fear that their lives could be next. Most weren't shocked by the news of Whele's atrocities. He had long been seen as a snake. Riesen's misdeed hurt the people the most. After his victory against the angels, he had been put on a pedestal. Over the years, people forgot just how high they had put him. Their unyielding, shining victor was a fraud.

General Riesen rose with the sun. It was a beautiful day. He stood at a window, welcoming a new day, his face awash in golden rays. He met Dan on the street. Dan stifled a yawn.

"Tired?" asked Riesen.

"Hard to sleep when you're up every half-hour to pee. Damn old age."

Riesen laughed. "Don't I know it."

They strolled along, greeting everyone they passed. They headed toward what used to be V1 housing where there was still a lot of damage. Riesen was dressed casually, ready for a hard day's work. A rusted can flew toward him, clattering on the road at his feet. Riesen looked around in surprise. Dan shifted to a more cautious mode, prepared for anything. Gaunt, dirty faces stared at them. A man, hunched over in despair and hunger, crossed in front of them. He spat at Riesen's feet.

"Sir, I think we should go back," said Dan.

"Nonsense. The people need to see I'm one of them."

General Riesen pushed further into the destroyed section. He pretended not to see the glares or hear the muttured curses. He stopped once the road was impassable from debris. Bending down with a grunt, he began to clear the area. Dan helped, but covertly kept an eye on the nearby people. Around mid-morning, a raucous group showed up to help. They were greeted warmly. No one in the group spoke to General Riesen or Dan as they worked.

They made good progress and cleared a large swatch of road by noon. The General was weary and was depending on the wall he was leaning against more than he would have liked. Dan too was tired, his age finally showing. Riesen closed his eyes. Every part of him ached. Sharing his body with an angel had cured him of heart failure, but the effects of age couldn't be reversed. Beside him, Dan fidgeted. Riesen looked over at him. Dan was nervously looking about. Several people, led by the loud group, were surrounding them. Some held broken metal pipes, bricks, and one even had a bat.

"I knew I should have slept in today," Dan said.


	15. Chapter 15

"The Hunt"

Alex cringed as a branched snapped under his foot. He looked over apologetically at Kenna. She grimaced, but nodded that they should keep moving. They had set out at dawn on their hunting expedition. It was just the two of them. Alex had seemed anxious around the others and Kenna enjoyed hunting. She had asked him to join her while the others figured out their next move. Unbeknownst to Alex, Michael had been keeping watch on them, but after his shadow startled a hare Kenna was aiming for, he left. She may have made a few gestures to express her displeasure while Alex wasn't looking.

They crept through the woods toward a pile of brush. Kenna stopped and pointed. Alex stared for a moment until he saw what had caught her attention. The hare was barely visible, nibbling on grass at the mouth of a hole. The flash of its white underside gave it away. Kenna silently slipped her knife from the sheath on her leg. She palmed it, eyes never leaving her target. She flicked her wrist and sent the knife tumbling through the air, hitting the hare in the heart. Alex jumped. It had been so fast, he hadn't realized she had thrown the knife until the hare fell over.

"Whoa, can you teach me to do that?" he asked.

Kenna smiled. "Depends. Are you a good student?" She pointed at the hare. "Fetch."

Alex rolled his eyes but did as instructed.

Thirty minutes later, they emerged from the woods and rejoined the group. Alex looked around anxiously.

"Where's Michael?"

"He went back," grumbled Gabriel. "Noma too."

"And left you to babysit?" Alex said.

Gabriel chuckled. "Someone has to watch the kids and I am the oldest."

Xandar came to Kenna and took the hare. "Barely," he said.

"You were an afterthought, dog," Gabriel said.

"So were you," Xandar spat back.

Kenna and the other soldiers exchanged weary glances. She leaned toward Alex. Under her breath, she said, "Xandar has a high position in Fairmont, but he is still a little touchy around higher angels."

"I am not," he yelled, rounding on her. Xandar shut his mouth quickly. "I'm sorry," he said, somewhat calmer. "I shouldn't have yelled."

Kenna walked up to him and patted his arm. "No worries. Cook us a nice breakfast and we'll pretend it didn't happen." She proceeded to Gabriel's side. She stretched to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Don't antagonize," she scolded him.

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. "No promises."

A couple miles away, Michael knocked on a door. Overhead, Noma floated in circles. The door swung open, revealing Wes on the other side. Laurel's voice drifted from further in the house.

"Who is it?"

"No one," Wes growled.

Laurel appeared beside him. She slipped past him, closing the door behind her. She looked everywhere but at Michael. He remained quiet. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed.

"Make it quick," she said.

She led them toward the road, stopping at the edge of the yard. She stared him down. Michael remained impassive. He glanced up, checking that Noma was near. He wasn't worried about Laurel trying to hurt him, but Wes seemed ready to try something. Michael was more worried Laurel would get caught in the middle.

"Well?" she demanded.

"You deserve an explanation. I will answer any questions you have."

"Why didn't you tell us who you are?"

"I had lost my faith. I didn't deserve my title."

"And you do now?" Laurel said sarcastically.

"I've regained my purpose. I know who I am and what path I must take."

"What about that man, the one who attacked us? You protected him."

"He is important to me, like a son."

Laurel crossed her arms over her chest. "He tried to kill children. He should be punished."

Michael stood taller and seemed to take up more space. Power radiated from him, forcing Laurel to take a step back.

"He was under the influence of Lucifer, much like you were."

Laurel ground her teeth. "That doesn't excuse his actions."

Michael was impressed. So few humans had any defiance left in them. "What about when your friend Wes killed that girl? You said it had to be done to protect the town. If you want to dole out punishments, start with him."

When she didn't respond, Michael continued. "If you won't punish him, I will."

He turned back to the house. Laurel grabbed his arm.

"Wait."

He faced her again.

"Okay, I see your point. Do you and your friends plan on staying here?"

"We will leave at dawn."

Laurel chewed her lip. Again, she avoided looking at Michael.

"What? What else would you like to know?"

"Will I…will we see you again?"

Michael stepped closer and cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her forehead. Whispering against her hair, he said, "The future has yet to unfold."

Michael and Noma rejoined the group in time for breakfast. There wasn't much, but between everyone's provisions and the hare, no one went hungry.

Alex glanced at Kenna. "Will you teach me?"

"Teach what?" asked Michael.

Alex explained.

"I can teach you," Michael said.

Alex cringed. "No offense, Michael, but you're not the easiest teacher around. Anyway, it might be good to learn from someone else."

The Fairmont soldiers laughed.

"What? What's so funny?" Alex asked.

"If you think Kenna is an easy teacher, you're in for a surprise," one of them said.

Kenna laughed and stood. She patted Alex's shoulder. "Whenever you're ready."

Alex followed her to the tree line. She slipped her knife from the sheath and spun it between her fingers. She sent it toward a tree, hitting her mark. Alex jumped as a prickly feeling crawled along his skin. The tattoos were itchy.

After retrieving the knife, she said, "There are really just a few tips to get you started. Other than that, aim and throw. Let me see what you can do and we'll go from there."

She handed the knife to him. Alex sized up the target and let it loose. The knife bounced off the tree. He huffed.

"You've got the power. It's just a matter of mechanics. Go get the knife and stay down there."

"You're not going to tell me to put an apple on my head, are you?"

Kenna smiled. "Naw, I don't need to show off. You already know how good I am."

Alex shook his head in amusement as he walked to the tree.

"Now take five steps forward," Kenna said.

"Why?"

"Do it, then I'll tell you why."

Alex complied. His five steps took him just past Kenna. She moved to his side.

"For every five steps, you'll get about one rotation. Once you're comfortable at this distance, you'll be better able to gauge how to throw to hit your target at any range. Now, hold it flat in your hand."

Alex balanced the knife on his palm.

"Which end is heavier, blade or handle?"

"Blade."

"Yes, good. You want to throw the heavy end first and hold the opposite. So in this case, hold the handle."

Alex adjusted his grip. "Okay, now what?"

"Now you try a few different ways to grip it. Ideally, you want to be able to open your hand and not have to move any fingers out of the way. It's like you're pinching it."

Alex struggled to get his fingers in place. "This feels uncomfortable."

"What feels natural to you?"

He slid his thumb until it pointed along the knife. Kenna nodded.

"That's a common hold because it is what most default to. However, your thumb could cause the knife to wobble. Practice both and choose whichever you like better. Now, for the last step, all you have to do is throw like you would a baseball."

Alex threw the knife. It bounced off the tree again. He retrieved it and stood glumly beside Kenna.

"Try again," she said. "This time, give yourself an extra step, so you're six steps away instead of five."

He tried again. It didn't stick, but he did knick the tree.

"Better," Kenna said. "Keep practicing."

She sat in the grass off to the side, watching. Gradually, Alex progressed. After half-an-hour, he could stick the target on eighty percent of his throws. He looked over at Kenna. She sat cross-legged, eyes closed. He plopped down in front of her.

"You meditate too? No wonder the angels like you."

Kenna took a deep breath and let it out slowly before opening her eyes. "Not all like me. And meditating isn't an angel thing. It's a warrior thing. You might benefit from it."

"Michael thinks I would too," Alex grumbled.

"Let me guess. You have a hard time clearing your mind?"

Alex nodded.

"Me too. That's why I don't usually stay still. I like to walk while I meditate, usually in nature."

Alex raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"I know it seems counterintuitive, but I'm calmest when I'm surrounded by nature, away from anything manmade. It's the only time I'm really at peace."

"Huh. Maybe I should try that. You just walk around?"

"Yep. Sometimes I sit. It's the being alone in wilderness part that helps me."

"I'm gonna give it a try right now. Cover for me?"

Kenna nodded. "I'll wait here so it's like we're still practicing. Take as much time as you like."

Alex roamed about the trees. Through he tried to clear his mind, he kept thinking about every poor decision he had made, especially recently. He sighed and leaned against a tree. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his other senses. The bark rubbed roughly against his back. The wind flowed over him. His hair, a bit shaggy since his last cut, tickled his forehead. A few birds chirped and cawed in the branches. Dried leaves rustled as birds and squirrels foraged on the ground. He breathed in through his nose, picking up the warm earthy scent around him. He lowered himself to the ground, eyes still closed. He shifted his attention to just one sense, touch. As the wind wrapped around him, he tattoos began to glow. He could feel them warming.

He was drifting through an endless black expanse. As he thought that, a light appeared. He drifted closer. Suddenly, he zoomed right into the middle of it. Fire stretching twice his height surrounded him. The warmth of his tattoos increased until he thought his flesh would melt from his bones. On her knees before him was Kenna. Her arms were wrapped around herself, eyes clouded with pain and despair. She rocked back and forth, muttering, "Please, please stop," over and over under the roar of the flames. The fire went out, pitching Alex in the endless dark once more, the silence pressing in.

Alex's eyes flew open. He put a hand on his chest, feeling the thundering of his heart. He never knew what his visions would show him and they were usually disturbing, but this one felt like something more. It was dangerous, a warning. He made his way back to Kenna, contemplating if he should say something. She was where he had left her, laying in the grass. She got up at his approach.

"How did it go?"

"Still difficult, but I think it helped."

"That's great. We've been gone for a while. We should probably go back."

Alex followed, searching for any signs that there was something wrong with her. He admired how tough she was and how her people trusted her. But, anyone who could tame Gabriel had to be more than they appeared. Alex had hated how in Vega people assumed they knew everything about him because of his class. He didn't want to do that to Kenna. He held his tongue, deciding to wait until he had physical evidence.

A few minutes later, Alex sat beside Michael. They were at the dining room table in the house they had commandeered. Everyone was there, planning their next move.

"Before we decide anything, we should consolidate our intel," began Michael. "Alex, Noma, what do you know of the Morning Star's plans?"

Noma, standing on the other side of the room, spoke first. "Last we saw him, he hadn't regained a functioning corporeal form yet. He had wanted to convince Alex to sacrifice himself to complete the process. Since that plan failed, he has had to re-evaluate. I believe the sacrifices the people of this town spoke of are Lucifer's new plan."

Alex furrowed his brows. This wasn't the Noma he knew. There was something alien about her, but he couldn't place it.

"We are contacting our informants to confirm," said Contra. "Do we know anything more about the Nephilim problem?"

"Not as of yet," said Michael.

"They have been suspiciously quiet," continued his twin.

"We will see what else our informants can uncover," said Contra.

"Good," Michael said. "As for our next move, the people of this town expect us to leave by dawn. We will…." Michael paused. He turned in his seat to look at Alex. "Alex, what do you think we should do?"

Alex glanced around. "Me? I don't think I should be making any decisions."

"Why is that?"

"Not the best track record."

"Clearly," said Gabriel.

Michael sent a scorching glare at his brother. "You are the Chosen One, Alex. There will be many decisions you must make, some more difficult than others. It's time I stop leading you and start following."

Alex gulped. He stared at the table. Michael touched his shoulder.

"I believe in you."

Alex nodded. "We'll return to Vega. We need to understand what happened when I did that mass eviction."

"What mass eviction?" asked Gabriel.

"Oh, right. You don't know. We were in the tunnels, almost out of ammunition. The eight-balls were pouring in. We weren't going to make it. I did the only thing I could think of. I walked out there chanting the eviction prayer."

"It was incredible," said Noma. "It was like a wave expelled from him, evicting all the lower angels nearby. But it took a toll."

"I felt tired afterwards. I don't think I'll be able to do that repeatedly."

"Still, that is impressive progress," Michael said. "We'll follow your lead. We will return to Vega."

"It's time for us to go home too," said Kenna.

"Excuse me," came the timid voice of one of the Fairmont soldiers.

Kenna, Contra, and Xandar turned to him, eyes hard as diamonds.

"Yes?" asked Kenna.

"Well, wouldn't it…."

"Speak up," barked Kenna.

The soldier tried again, louder. "Wouldn't it be prudent to form an alliance with Vega? We're on good terms with Helena and we have allies in Vega's ranks." He gestured to Alex. "This may be our only opportunity. You should go with them."

Kenna eyed the soldier. She and the other commanders huddled briefly. After half a minute, she addressed the room.

"We have taken your suggestion under advisement. If it is agreeable with the other party, I would like to join you as a representative of Fairmont."

"Agreed," said Alex.

"Excellent. The rest will return to Fairmont. Oh, one more thing."

Kenna strode to the solider, flanked by Contra and Xandar. The soldier paled.

"It is our duty to congratulate you on your promotion."

"I don't understand," said the soldier.

"We expect obedience, but we also expect you to question us if our decisions aren't sound. Your idea is better than ours. We need people like you if we are to survive this world. Well done."

"Thank you very much, commanders. I won't disappoint you."

The next day, before the first rays of sun crested the horizon, the two groups were ready to depart. The team returning to Vega went westward, away from the town. Kenna waved farewell as the rest of her people went east to retrieve their vehicles.

"I miss them already," she said.

"I'll distract you," Gabriel said as he moved to her side. She smiled and linked her hand in his.

* * *

Dan and General Riesen huddled in a small alleyway. It was nothing more than a ditch between buildings. Their feet sunk into the filth. They had been running for most of the day, sprinting from one hiding spot to the next. Riesen rubbed his side. A pipe shaped bruise had formed. Dan wasn't doing much better. Blood streamed from a gash on his temple. Riesen looked around curiously.

"Ah, I know where we are. A block from here is an access tunnel. It won't get us out of the city, but it will get us close."

"You want to leave Vega?"

"We can't do anything if we are constantly on the run. Right now, we're safer outside the walls."

Riesen peeked out of the alleyway. Seeing no one, he waved for Dan to follow. He led them through streets and into buildings. When they heard voices, they ducked behind piles of trash. It took a half-hour to travel one block. They stopped outside of Super 8 Motel.

"Really?" Dan said. "This is our way out?"

"It was cheap. Less likely the wives would notice. There's a network of tunnels connecting several hotels and casinos."

"I knew that. I didn't know about this one though."

"Few did. It wasn't advertised."

General Riesen cautiously entered the dilapidated motel, Dan on his heels. They crept through the lobby, avoiding the upturned furniture, and crouched behind the receptionist desk. Noises drifted to them from the rooms.

"This place has terrible customer service," said Dan.

Riesen ignored him. "The entrance is in a supply closet down that hallway."

He pointed to the right. The hallway stretched for twenty rooms on either side. The supply closet was at the end, beside the stairwell. Dan nodded and crept out from behind the desk. Seeing a broken chair leg, he grabbed it. They were less than a whisper and as insubstantial as air as they moved down the hallway. They passed the first six pairs of rooms without trouble. Three rooms down, a door opened. A little girl of about eight with a mop of dirty blonde hair stepped into the hallway. She spotted them.

"It's okay," Dan said. "We're looking for somewhere to stay. We won't bother anyone."

The girl dashed back into her room.

"We gotta go," Dan said.

He and Riesen ran, no longer heeding caution. As they passed the girl's room, the door swung open. A man, as gaunt as the girl, bounded out. Dan swung the broken chair leg wildly. More doors flung open as the noise attracted attention. Dan and Riesen barreled down the hallway. Dan shouldered into the crowd forming ahead of them. General Riesen grabbed any debris lying around and threw it behind them.

When they reached the supply closet, they piled in. Dan groped in the dark until he found a mop. He shoved it through the door handle and stuck the handle between the wall and shelving. He put his back against the door.

"Whatever you're doing, do it quick."

Riesen stepped closer to the back wall. He pulled on the metal shelving screwed into the wall. He strained, breath coming in huffs.

"Help me," he said over his shoulder. "Pull."

He and Dan heaved. The shelving and wall began to move. It shrieked as it slid against the tiled floor. They slipped through the tiny opening and quickly shut it. They slid a heavy metal beam across the door.

"That's convenient," said Dan.

"Welcome to the seedy underbelly of Las Vegas."

"How do you know so much about this place?"

Riesen frowned. "I had no idea about the tunnels under the city until we began to rebuild here. I made it my business to know everything, to know every secret."

It was late when they emerged on the surface. The dark streets were filled with shouts.

"All this for us?" asked Dan.

"All this for opposition. I bet your old friend is behind this."

Dan agreed.

We're not getting out through the gates. We'll have to go over," said Riesen.

"Over? Can't we go under?"

"We could, but after the eight-ball attack, all access points will be guarded."

"Then how are we getting over? Unless you've got some wings of your own, we're not scaling the wall."

"No, but there is a way. There's a ladder. On the other side, there are footholds built into the wall. We've never had to use it, so it's not well guarded, two tops."

"Great. Heights," muttered Dan.

The travel to the ladder was uneventful. This section of wall had only two guards. Dan wanted to take them out, but Riesen had hand-picked these soldiers. He told Dan to wait while he approached them. They trained their guns on him. He held up his hands. Once they could see him, they lowered their weapons.

Sir, you shouldn't be out here," one of them said.

"I need to get out of the city. Are you going to stop me?"

"No sir. We're with you," replied the other.

Riesen dipped his head in thanks and summoned Dan. One soldier took lead while the other took the rear. The group began their long ascent. They were three-fourths up the wall when shots echoed from below.

"Move," shouted the first soldier.

The rear soldier wrapped an arm and leg around the ladder and twisted around. Precariously balanced, he aimed at the mob below, letting loose a barrage of bullets. Bits of dust and rock pelted the group as their enemy's bullets pockmarked the wall. They were near the top when the rear soldier cried out. His leg had been hit. It gave out and he fell. He hit the ground with a dull thud.

"Come on," shouted the remaining soldier.

He offered a hand to pull Riesen and Dan up.

"Get moving. I'll keep them off you."

He took aim while Riesen and Dan ran along the wall. Riesen stopped twenty yards later.

"Here. This is where we get down."

Dan went first. Going down was even more treacherous than up. After twenty minutes of slips and close calls, they touched the ground. Craning their necks, they saw the soldier quickly climbing down. He saw them and looked back up. A few people had made it to the top of the wall. The soldier grimaced and tossed his gun aside. A moment later, bullets sped past him. Dan had understood.

Once all on the ground, the three men dashed across the dry land. They crossed paths with a few eight-balls, but they were quickly dispatched. Riesen led them to Mandalay Bay Resort. As they passed the Luxor, he shook his head. By becoming a dyad, he had allowed enemies into the home of those he had sworn to protect. He may have won the battle against his mortality, but he was losing the war on his morality.

They made it to the resort at sunrise. They trudged up to the top floor. They broke into the penthouse and collapsed onto the couches and chairs. They slept fitfully for three hours before they were startled from their reprieve. A door banged and a harsh, hushed voice spoke. Dan motioned for the others to stay put. He crept from the penthouse, gun ready to fire. Footsteps, muffled by the carpeted hallway, approached. Dan jumped into the hallway, finger closing on the trigger.

"Shit," he yelped.

Sgt. Ethan Mack did the same.

"Nearly shot you. Where have you been?" said Dan. He clapped Sgt. Mack on the back.

"This idiot nearly got us killed. We've been scouring for hours."

Sgt. Mack jabbed a thumb behind him. David Whele was leaning against the wall. A bloodied bandage was wrapped around his left arm.

"Get in here," said Dan.

Once settled, Whele spoke. "What the Hell happened?"

"We've been run out of the city," said Riesen.

"Why thank you for that illuminating answer."

"No matter what happened, we're in this situation and we need to rectify it."

"Bookie did this. I don't know how, but he has turned the city against us."

"He hasn't turned everyone," said the soldier. "I'm not the only one willing to leave Vega. Others will follow."

"And when they do," said Whele, "we'll take back our city," finished Riesen.

* * *

 **Hello all you lovely people. As always, please review. Feedback is welcome. Also, if you aren't already, please join the Dominion Family Facebook page. Did you see that Twitter thing that happened near the end of February? There will be plenty more happening to bring our beloved show back. Join the Facebook page and Twitter too, look for #Dominion, to stay up to date. We can do this!**


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